Agent Klutz: The Secret Diaries of Wendy
by Rhianwen
Summary: [Complete!] Tripping over your own shoe every ten minutes is one thing. But when you walk, unharmed, away from a mishap that should have killed you, people begin to get a little suspicious...
1. A Week Less Ordinary

Agent Klutz – The Secret Diaries of Wendy

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Summary: Tripping over your shoe is one thing. But when you walk, unharmed, away from an accident that should have killed you, people begin to get a little suspicious. Next thing you know, Mr. Gentleman and his sick sense of humor are promoting you to field agent with the most useless ability known to man.

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Disclaimer: Don't own 'em, I'm sure they hate me. :o)

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_March 11, 2001 - Sunday_

_Dear Diary,_

_The weekend is nearly over, and a new week is upon us; a week full of new possibilities that will probably fail utterly to pan out into anything useful, but it's the thought that counts, isn't it?_

_Sadly, I have once again done absolutely nothing at all useful, constructive, or even particularly fun and relaxing with my Saturday and Sunday. While others were visiting friends, falling in love, having meaningless-yet-fun one-night stands, getting drunk off their arses, and dancing like mad fools, I stayed in and reorganized my bookshelves. _

_This didn't take long, since, working in one of the largest libraries on the planet (and one of the most active in matters of the continuation of life on said planet), I feel little need to own more than about forty-three books. _

_After that, I could have wriggled into a tight skirt, slapped on some make-up, and allowed my poor, neglected friends to drag me from my apartment and forcibly introduce me to some of the nice, exceedingly good-looking boys built like Roman lust gods that they apparently know (but oddly enough, never date themselves)._

_Instead, keeping with the theme of reorganization, I moved onto my CD collection. _

_Somewhere between organizing the canned soups in my pantry and organizing my closet according to colour, season, and occasion, Sylvie and Julie called, demanding to know why I had seemingly dropped off the face of the planet as of late. I replied that it probably had something to do with the planet's weakening gravitational pull, which annoyed Sylvia so much that she bid me a frosty farewell and hung up straight away._

_She hates it when I say something clever._

_Luckily for her, it doesn't happen very often._

_It was at this point that, left blessedly alone to my own devices, I decided that I was bored and went to bed._

_Today was scarcely better._

_The highlight was going to the store to buy some milk, because the carton in my fridge had turned a strange shade of green and was on the verge of a hostile takeover of the vegetable crisper._

_I don't suppose it would find many subjects to rule over with an iron fist._

_I haven't had a fresh vegetable in the house since Mum visited last autumn and stocked the thing. Or rather, since I threw out a bunch of rotten vegetables that I never got around to preparing, last winter._

_Honestly, who has time for gourmet cooking when they arrive home at approximately eight o' clock each evening, and has usually eaten by the time they get there?_

_Mr. Joker may be a little too quick to assume that his secretary hates spending time in her home as much as he apparently hates spending time in his, but I will say this for the man: he can take a hint._

_All I usually have to do is tell him that I'm going to throw something at him if he doesn't get some fresh air, take a walk, and perhaps eat something sometime today, and he catches on immediately! And then, in either gratitude or reluctance to leave me to my own devices for fear of what shambles he might return to find his office in, he buys me dinner, too._

_I'll also say this for the man: he makes rather impressive starring roles in my dreams three nights out of five._

_Oh, come now, what's a diary for if not this?_

_Yes, it is surely a sign of trouble when a person comes to look forward to Monday mornings because they're bored silly after two little days of weekend._

_And because they miss their boss, but we shan't go any farther into that than we have already._

_Your faithful servant,_

_Wendy._

_

* * *

__March 12, 2001 – Monday_

_Dear Diary,_

_Well, so much for a fresh new week, filled with the possibility of something exciting happening. I was entirely right when I cynically predicted that they would fail utterly to pan out. _

_It's only Monday evening, and already I'm longing for the weekend, and with it, the breaking of the monotony of the work week._

_I know that this is ridiculous, when just yesterday, I was longing for the week to begin to break the monotony of the weekend._

_This is how people end up wishing their lives away, and before they know it, they're lonely old women in rickety houses with forty cats who devour their carcasses when they die because they've been too senile for the last five years to remember to buy food._

_Ah, well. Perhaps I'm just a little out-of-sorts because I've spent all day at close quarters with Mr. Joker, working on a research project of some sort – involving a lot of books with names like "Illegal Human Experimentation Made Simple", and "How to Make the Perfect Carrier for Obscenely Old Men's Boundless Knowledge in Ten Easy Steps", and "Beadwork for Fun and Profit" – and despite my greatest and most blatant efforts at flirtation, the most intimate thing he's said to me was,_

_"Pass me a Post-it Note, will you please?"_

_Hmph__! Post-it Notes, indeed! Just see how much you like your Post-it Notes when I go and fall madly in love with that nice Steve boy on the janitorial staff! _

_Have thought better of this, as making one's boss, with whom one is already madly in love, angry, seems like a tenuous basis for a relationship, to say the least._

_Well, he seems to be giving me a curious look, as I've stopped scribbling notes in between page-flipping. Thus, I had best go make an attempt to look like I'm working rather than taking a much needed _break_ for the first time in twelve hours!_

_Oh, dear._

_Mr. Joker has just passed out on his desk from lack of sleep. I suspect that he never bothered to go home this weekend. After all, his hair seemed a little out-of-place, which wouldn't mean a lot normally, but we're talking about Mr. Joker!_

_Well, now I suppose I have a decision to make._

_I can either wake him up and get back to work, wake him up and threaten to throw something at him if he doesn't go home and sleep properly, stare at him in innocent adoration a while longer, stare at him and mentally undress him in less innocent adoration a while longer, or go through his pockets for change and go get a cup of coffee and a muffin._

_I'd best go. A decision of this magnitude will take some concentration._

_Your faithful servant,_

_Wendy._

_

* * *

__March 13, 2001 – Tuesday_

_Dear Diary,_

_Don't expect too much coherency right now; too bloody tired._

_My conscience got the better of me last night, and so I woke Mr. Joker up and left his spare change alone._

_Unfortunately, my conscience also led me to offer him a ride home after he walked into the door frame trying to leave the office._

_He really ought to sleep on weekends._

_Or weeknights, for that matter._

_Didn't expect he would accept, or wouldn't have stupidly offered._

_Also didn't expect to be tired enough once we reached his home to fall asleep standing up, or wouldn't have watched him sleeping for a time after helping him inside and tucking him in._

_Yes, tucking him in._

_I like to think of it as the kind of thing that separates people like me from the ordinary, run-of-the-mill secretary._

_Although, I have the uneasy suspicion that it just makes me a little bit strange._

_Really, really didn't expect to wake up this morning in my boss's bed, next to him, my skirt, shoes, tie, and vest conspicuously absent._

_And my shirt conspicuously not mine._

_You know, if this happened to any other girl, it would have been the result of a deliciously steamy and indecent encounter._

_In my case, it's because I was too bloody tired to leave the room, and Mr. Joker took pity on me when he woke up to find me slumped over him at a strange angle._

_No one asked about why we were arriving in the same car, and why Mr. Joker's car was still in the lot. I think Eliot was going to, but Mr. Joker looked at him and he stayed quiet._

_Either way, there was little time to be flustered about the curious looks and belligerent grins, as almost the instant we got inside, Mr. Joker got a call from Mr. Gentleman, who wanted him in a meeting, and made a point of telling him that it was only to work the overhead projector._

_Poor man.__ I would have felt a lot sorrier for him, if Mr. Gentleman hadn't also requested my presence at the meeting to take notes because his micro cassette recorder wasn't working properly today._

_Yes, that's me. Wendy Earhart. Second-fiddle to a cheap mechanical gizmo._

_Of course, this _is_ Mr. Gentleman, and so, second-fiddle to an expensive mechanical gizmo that he likely tinkered around with to make it do a lot of things that it didn't really need to would be more accurate._

_The meeting was with the American president._

_I don't like the man already. There's just something about him that gives you the impression that he has no bladder control. One doesn't quite get that sense from watching him on television, but it is very apparent in person._

_I'm sure the janitorial staff likes him even less._

_Mr. Joker warned me in a hushed voice not to stand too near the man, if I didn't want to fall prey to his busy hands._

_Mr. Joker says the strangest things when he's tired._

_Oh, hold on, I'm thinking of me. Need sleep!_

_Thank God I was able to fill the page with 'important notes' despite fatigue and half-awareness. There weren't many 'important notes' to take, honestly. I've never heard a group of apparently intelligent men ramble on like that before._

_Mr. Joker tells me that's because I've never actually _been _at one of these meetings before. He says they're all the same, and that's why he's programmed a tiny video-game into his wristwatch. I'm glad he didn't tell me that before the meeting. I would have heard those mysterious beeps and boops that no one could figure out, and burst out laughing._

_I think that would stay notably absent from the notes._

_"At about the halfway point, Joker's secretary, also acting as the surrogate micro cassette recorder (although she looks much better in a short skirt), went inexplicably insane, filling the air with shrill, girlish giggles."_

_Er__…no._

_By the time that bloody boring meeting was over, it was nearing seven o' clock, and nearly every _sane _person in the building had left. _

_That's another way of saying that most of the staff was still hanging about._

_As for me, I was good and ready to go home, since the meeting had put me in the mood for a nice, long nap._

_Sadly, sleep was not to be my fate._

_Instead, I spent the next two hours reorganizing this one particular bookshelf that has been plaguing me for a while now, being the only one in Mr. Joker's office that I haven't gotten to yet._

_He always claimed that there was no point to reorganizing something that was already perfectly organized, thank-you-very-much-dear. _

_Strange how quickly he gave in and let me get my little mitts on it just as soon as he went to reach for a book he needed and it wasn't immediately at his fingertips. _

_Hmph__! And just how did you think your shelves all _got_ that convenient and perfectly suited to your unique style of research, you pompous ass whom I nevertheless love and adore?_

_So, now it is obscenely late at night, and I am not at all in the mood to sleep, as all that bookshelf-organizing has energized me._

_This can't be normal._

_And on this note, dear diary, I shall take my leave and lie in bed, staring at the ceiling resentfully for an hour or two before giving up in despair and getting ready for work tomorrow._

_Or today, rather.__ The clock has just struck one o' clock._

_Groan. Tomorrow – today – will not be a happy day._

_Your faithful servant,_

_Wendy._

_

* * *

__March 14, 2001 – Wednesday_

_Dear Diary,_

_How was your day? I know it's silly to ask a book of loose-leaf how its day was, but it almost has to be more interesting than mine (although, to look on the bright side, I was far more alert and awake than I expected to be)._

_That's the biggest problem with working for the British Library. When it's interesting – say, perhaps, when the world is in peril from a man who wants to write a song bad enough to make everyone kill themselves – it's very, very interesting, since everyone has a task, even if it's something as simple as fetching everyone cup after cup of tea (my personal favourite). However, when there's no threat to the planet, it can be very, very dull. _

_We've just hit one of those lovely dull patches, free even of the ridiculous and slightly embarrassing incidents of Monday and Tuesday. _

_This could last for weeks._

_Honestly, although I know that there's a lot to be said for safe monotony, I can't help but wish that something would happen. Or at least that we would get very, very busy around the Library with a lot of menial tasks that have to be done _right now. _Then maybe Mr. Joker would stop inventing things for me to do. _

_Yes, sadly, I spent all afternoon realphabetizing the bookshelf I tidied up yesterday, that he "accidentally" disorganized. Hmph! "Accident", indeed! Maybe if he'd put things back where they belong once in a while, we'd be a little freer of "accidents" around there! Stupid Mr. Joker._

_I know you must be thinking right now, "She can't have meant that!" _

_Well, rest assured, I do mean it. And I don't think it's a bad thing. I think it's only healthy to recognize the shortcomings of the one you love. In Mr. Joker's case, he's an unhealthy workaholic, even when there's nothing to do, and he can't reconcile himself to the fact that not everyone around him is the same way, which is why I end up doing the same menial job seven times after he keeps _un_doing it. _

_"Just to keep you busy, Wendy. Wouldn't want you to get bored, Wendy." _

_It just so happens, you great heaping idiot, I think it would be really bloody nice to be bored once in a while! At least being bored sitting still is better than being bored doing the same thing over and over! I feel like that man in Tartarus who had to spend an eternity pushing the boulder up the hill, only to have it roll back down._

_Of course, in the Underworld, there were probably no kind smiles and eyes that crinkle a little at the corners and light up with just a little glimmer of laughter along with those smiles, and handsome, distinguished features, and backsides that have no business looking nearly that good in a pair of dress slacks, and…why was I angry at him again?_

_I suppose I might as well go to bed now before I remember and get too wound up to sleep properly. Which would be bad, as if this whole 'sleeping properly' thing pans out, it will be the first time this week._

_And so, good night, dear diary.__ I'd wish you sweet dreams, but that would about prove that the boredom around the workplace as of late has finally turned my brain._

_Your faithful servant, _

_Wendy._

_-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------_

_March 15, 2001 – Thursday_

_Dear Diary,_

_Alright, it's official. Just as soon as a person stupidly complains about the monotony of their life, something too bloody weird for human comprehension happens. _

_I'm on my lunch break right now – women's intuition told me that this would be the sort of day where I would need to vent a little by the middle of it – and I don't have long, but if I don't write it down now, everything will get jumbled, and it won't make sense when I get to it later._

_Make sense! How on earth could _any _of this make sense no matter how clearly it was explained? And it's not even as though I haven't been exposed to this kind of strangeness. After all, Yomiko Readman could probably make a marching band out of the Sunday sports section if she wanted to (which would be a far better use for it than actually _reading_ it – unless they had something about rugby, of course; rugby's the only sport that has any right to be a sport). I just didn't expect something like this to happen to me._

_But I suppose I'll forget it all anyway if I keep rambling, and so here we go. This is what happened, as best I remember it._

_I had just arrived at work this morning, and after alphabetizing the bookshelf that Mr. Joker accidentally knocked most of the books off of on his way past last night, he sent me to help some of the boys with some heavy boxes. It's good to know that those years of rugby and the inevitable strength-training they provided haven't gone totally unappreciated. Those men don't know how lucky are to have me around to help. They'd be hopeless without me._

_Well, we were on the way down the stairs with one shipment of newly discovered stone carvings to have a look at – the archaeologist said something about prehistoric comic books, but I think he was just having a game to see how much Mr. Frankie would believe. Of course, Mr. Frankie completely believed him and started asking things about Garfield and Marmaduke and Spiderman. _

_Oh, Frankie, you sweet, adorable idiot._

_Oh, dear. I'm off track again. _

_We were on our way down the stairs, and I was trying to walk backwards down that huge spiraling staircase, which, I would like to stress, is very difficult to do, especially while carrying one end of a box full of bloody _rocks

_Is it any wonder that I tripped over my own foot on the fourth step from the top? I think anyone could have made that mistake._

_And of course, when you're falling backwards down the stairs, it's very difficult to hold on tightly to your end of the box._

_To make a long, ugly story into a short, ugly story, I went down the stairs, and the box came right after with me._

_This wouldn't have been so much of a problem, if the box didn't end up on top of me at the end of the stairs._

_I've dealt with rugby injuries since the seventh grade, but somehow, bouncing down an aggravatingly long staircase and having a five-hundred-pound box of stone plaques land on your tummy puts them in very – VERY – painful perspective._

_And that's before one even takes into account what happened _after_ that. _

_You see, the lobby at the bottom of the staircase is crowded with massive bookshelves upwards of ninety feet high. _

_One would think that something like this would be fairly difficult to dislodge._

_I certainly thought so, until today._

_As the box landed on me, though, one of the stone tablets flew out of it and into the nearest bookshelf, shattering into hundreds of pieces._

_Then the bookshelf began to wobble._

_Then the bookshelf began to tip. _

_Then the bookshelf next to it began to tip as the first one crashed into it._

_This somehow led to five of the things descending straight towards me, although at the time, the box on top of me prevented me from caring too terribly much._

_However, a strange thing happened: the five bookshelves somehow fell in just such a way that they propped one another up, leaving a very relieved little me in the middle, albeit a very relieved little me with a box on my chest and every other part of me covered in the books that didn't stay on a tipping-over bookshelf very well._

_Nevertheless, I was alive._

_That isn't to say that hundreds of thousands – possibly millions – of dollars of damage weren't done._

_Or that the box on me didn't still hurt._

_And that's why I think I ought to be forgiven for sitting up and swearing a blue streak just as soon as Frankie, Alex, and the delivery man – luckily, much stronger than the other two; almost as strong as me! – waded through the debris and pried the thing off of me, but the way the three of them stared at me, you'd think I'd announced my intention of marrying my pet goat and declaring myself Grand High Empress of the Scarlet Women._

_I suppose my outburst must have shocked a lot of people, because as I managed to stand up, I noticed that quite a little crowd had appeared._

_And Mr. Joker must have been very worried by his secretary's sudden descent into potty-mouth, because seconds later, he came sprinting around the corner and shoved his way through the crowd and mess worthy of the one in his office._

_Honestly, I appreciated his concern, but a bear-hug isn't the first thing a person wants when they've just had their solar plexus introduced to a great bloody load of rocks. Still, I will say that I almost forgot my sore tummy when I noticed that his cologne smells even nicer up close._

_I was perfectly happy just to spend the rest of the day like that, but sadly, it was not to be._

_I had just began to snuggle in good earnest, when someone that I'm going to kill as soon as I find out who they were, shouted out the fatal words that set everything on its path down the hill of normalcy and into a swamp of silliness:_

_"Hold on! How the hell did she walk away from that without an injury?!"_

_Mr. Joker obviously thought this was a good point, because he pulled me away from him and stared at me curiously for a while before asking if I was hurt at all._

_Sensing even as I did so, that telling the truth in this case would NOT yield any great reward, I shook my head. Mr. Joker muttered something about having suspected it all along, and then told me with this strange smile, that he was taking me to see Mr. Gentleman._

_Whimper._

_Now, don't misunderstand. It isn't that I don't _like_ Mr. Gentleman. It's simply that he's a wee bit intimidating to someone who is basically at the bottom of the Great British Library food chain, metaphorically speaking._

_Still, there was the concept of pride to be considered, and thus I simply smiled and nodded as enthusiastically as if I'd meant it._

_I kept that smile pasted on firmly until, fifteen minutes later, we were standing before Mr. Gentleman, who greeted us both very kindly and made some comments about remembering Mr. Joker's cute little secretary from the preliminary job interviews, and was I still looking after the poor boy? Men needed taking care of, you know, and the roles of secretary and wife had a way of becoming a little muddled at times._

_This effectively turned and kept me bright pink while Mr. Joker, who I could swear looked a little red too, explained what had just happened._

_Mr. Gentleman looked thoughtful, and then a lot of long, complex words began being bounced about, the general theme of which had to do with latent abilities of heightened self-preservation as my body's natural defense against the preponderance of misfortunes that seemed to constantly befall me._

_Hmph__. Mean old man._

_Still, Mr. Joker seemed very excited about Mr. Gentleman's long words, confessing that all of them had crossed his mind, too._

_Poor Joker.__ If words like that are running through his head all the time, I don't wonder that he always looks as though he had twenty-seven last-minute things to do, a bus to catch in ten seconds, and a long pole in a certain bodily orifice._

_But that's just a part of what makes him so alluring._

_Yes, I'm sick._

_Either way, Mr. Joker very clearly agreed with Mr. Gentleman's assessment, and then took the whole thing one step further into suggesting that, should they prove able to harness and manipulate this…latent dumb luck, or what have you, I should be sent out as a field agent._

_I still can't decide who looked at him with more stunned disbelief: me or Mr. Gentleman. Certainly, he gave me a run for my money, although I think my jaw dropped a bit more._

_Mr. Gentleman recovered from his stunned disbelief much more quickly than I did, and sat there, stroking his turtle in the uneasy silence that followed._

_I don't know exactly how someone can _sit_ at you, but Mr. Gentleman _sat_ at Mr. Joker very poignantly. There was just something in his posture and expression that suggested very strongly that Mr. Joker was supposed to feel thoroughly chastened. _

_He asked very calmly and conversationally if Mr. Joker was serious. _

_Mr. Joker replied rather quickly and tersely that he was._

_Mr. Gentleman eyed him sternly and asked, again very conversationally, if he had, by any chance, gone mad._

_Mr. Joker replied, again quickly and tersely, that he believed he was quite sane._

_Mr. Gentleman noted very kindly and gently that one would never know it to listen to him._

_Mr. Joker tried to stand up straighter, and failed miserably, as he was already standing up as ramrod-straight as is humanly possible. He asked, clearly affronted, what was wrong with the idea._

_I'm still very proud of myself, that I managed not to blurt out, "Everything!" _

_It turned out that I didn't need to, anyway, because Mr. Gentleman made a noise remarkably like a snort._

_"Besides 'everything', you mean, Joker?"_

_I stopped laughing very quickly when Mr. Joker frowned at me._

_This same trick did not work on Mr. Gentleman, who kept right on laughing, his eyes – well, his eye – twinkling humorously at me, as Mr. Joker asked him stiffly to explain specifically what made the idea of my becoming a field agent so unsuitable._

_Oh! What, you ask? Mr. Gentleman covered that already: everything! _

_But Mr. Gentleman is called Mr. Gentleman instead of Mr. Rude Boorish Lout for more reasons than that the second is too long and unwieldy. _

_And so, he carefully explained that I would have difficulties adapting to the necessary training, that the idea of harnessing my natural self-preservation as an asset during a mission was a little risky, and that, overall, my talents lay in a different area._

_I thought it was all in all a nice little speech that summed things up beautifully, but Mr. Joker just scowled and asked exactly what would make the idea of attempting to harness my "naturally self-preservation" a risky venture, provided it were done in a controlled laboratory setting. _

_By this point, I was beginning to wonder how many times I was going to have to pointedly think, "Everything!" at the man, and was fully prepared to say it out loud this time._

_However, Mr. Gentleman once again saved me the trouble._

_"Listen, you ridiculous little boy, the idea is mad! She simply doesn't have the temperament to work as a field agent! At least, I believe that was you, Wendy, who refused to come near my turtle here because you were afraid that he would attack you – very slowly – and bite you, wasn't it?"_

_I nodded, a little resentfully. Not resentful of being reminded of that incident; that turtle would terrify more people than just me! But rather, despite the fact that my thoughts had been running along the same lines, I was irrationally furious with Mr. Gentleman for calling Mr. Joker ridiculous. It was different when it was me thinking it, though; I thought it out of love._

_"She would learn," Mr. Joker insisted._

_No, I wouldn't! I really, really wouldn't!_

_"And what about you?"__ Mr. Gentleman demanded. "What would you do without her? You would become completely inefficient, because you've forgotten how to do anything simple for yourself!"_

_This seemed to give Mr. Joker a moment of thought, but he shook his head resolutely and said that he couldn't think of his own personal comfort before a development that might prove genuinely useful to the British Library. Hmm…I had hoped for something a little more…romantic than 'personal comfort' being his first thought._

_So, a story already far too long made short, Mr. Gentleman grudgingly gave his approval to Mr. Joker's mad little idea, stating that he himself was rather curious to see how this train wreck would play out, and I'm to be closely examined this afternoon. Mr. Joker insisted upon being in the lab; he said he didn't trust that old pervert of a doctor not to take liberties with me, whatever on earth _that_ was supposed to mean._

_And thus, dear diary, off I toddle to have heavy things dropped on me to see just how far my supernatural dumb luck can go._

_Your faithful servant,_

_Wendy._

_

* * *

__March 16, 2001 – Friday_

_Dear Diary,_

_Sigh. Just sigh. That's all._

_What else is there to say when one's life has gone suddenly and inexplicably insane?_

_The meeting with the doctors and the scientists, by the way, did NOT go well. _

_Not only did each and every one of them agree that Mr. Joker's idea of sending me out as a field agent with the help of the most useless talent ever was a good one to try – after, of course, a lot more testing ,which will probably take all weekend, thus explaining why poor little Wendy will never, ever have a social life – but Mr. Joker also prolonged the agony by punching the doctor unconscious when the poor man tried to take my (steadily rising by that point) blood pressure._

_Oh, he felt terrible about it, of course, and sort of shuffled out of the room, muttering something about the upper arm being the Standard Fictional Female Character Grab Point, and how he panicked a bit. _

_At any rate, after a few of the staff got Mr. Joker back to his office and made him a cup of tea – hopefully just the way I explained – and after the poor doctor woke up, the testing got underway._

_Now, I've been through some strange experiences in my life and gotten out of them a lot more safely than Mum and Grandmum said I'd any right to. A fall off the garage roof and onto my back resulted in little more than aging my horrified cousins by several years. Getting caught in a pen with several severely annoyed pigs who managed to knock down and trample a six-year old girl with as much ease as one might expect that day at Uncle Pat's farm caused them a lot more harm than it did me; my largest concern was that my previously white dress was no longer so, and Mum was going to be furious. There's still an odd story told about my having escaped from Mum and Dad and jumping off a moving train, only to land on someone's fence. Again, I escaped unscathed. The fence did not._

_A wealth of stories very similar to these exist__ within my childhood. I had always assumed that they were just part of being a child. After all, most of us have no right to survive some of the things we do in our younger years._

_However, escaping injuries in childishly stupid adventures is an entirely different experience than being strapped into a chair and having a bowling ball dropped on your head, just to see what will happen._

_I swear, I will complain to Mr. Joker the next time I see him._

_Of course, I wasn't hurt at all; the scientists tell me that bowling ball just sort of…bounced off._

_Not off my head, of course. That would be silly, and would quite likely qualify as me being hurt. It bounced off the air just surrounding my head._

_They called Mr. Joker back in to watch as they dropped the bowling ball on me again. He seemed extremely pleased at the results, and I was struck with the fierce urge to strap him into a chair and drop a bowling ball on his head, just to see how much he liked it then. _

_Of course, there are always better things to do when you have the man of your dreams strapped into a chair…_

_Like rifle through his pockets for change! _

_After the bowling-ball exercise, they tried something a little more based on a situation I might actually possibly face as a field agent. After all, unless you come across a really watered-down James Bond villain, there isn't much of a chance that you'll be strapped into a chair and have to think of a way to escape before the bowling ball lands on you._

_  
So instead, the scientists all drew paint-ball guns and started firing at me._

_I know they were angry with me when I accidentally destroyed most of their equipment by stepping back in startled fear and tripping over my own shoe. Still, due to the lack of equipment, they couldn't do any more testing, and I finally got to go home. Ah, home! At last the weekend can begin! _

_It has just occurred to me that I am very, very bored. _

_And lonely._

_I wonder if Mr. Joker would come over if I told him my computer was broken and I had no idea how to fix it, but that I was thinking of taking it apart to see what was wrong._

_It worked last time, which bodes well for this time, but he might start to catch on if I use it too much, and so I think I'll save it for an emergency._

_Until then, dear diary, a very lonely girl bids you good night._

_Your faithful servant, _

_Wendy._

_

* * *

End Notes: Oy. You know, I've gotta stop with these stories before someone gets mad at me. :o)_

Anyway, the intention is for this to be the first chapter of several, all done in the format of Wendy's diary, documenting…well, stuff. Silly stuff. Stuff that happens. And never fear, Yomiko and Drake (and possibly Nancy, if I decide to disregard canon, which I likely will, as it _is_ quite clearly humor even sillier than the OVA) will have large roles, too. Very soon, I might add. Really! I swear! :o)


	2. A Recipe for Disaster

Chapter 2

_

* * *

_

_March 19, 2001 – Monday_

_Dear Diary, _

_Well, the weekend has come and gone. I haven't written, because I spent approximately none of it at home._

_Stupid Mr. Joker._

_Having no weekend isn't exactly what makes me so angry, although it doesn't help. At least I got overtime pay, which should help when Christmas rolls around and Mum _commands_ that I come see her and Dad this year._

_What did annoy me was the way that he just _assumed_ that I had no life to worry about. When I asked him, bluffing heavily, what I was supposed to do about my plans for the weekend, he just gave me this grin that was as good as telling me he wasn't fooled for a second, and said he was sure I would figure it out._

_Then, when I asked him what if I'd decided to go on the blind date my friends wanted me for on Saturday night, he adopted this strange expression and told me he'd need me Sunday, too._

_The continued testing of Saturday consisted mostly of being hooked up to these machines that Mr. Gentleman whipped up Friday night when he couldn't sleep. The point of the machines, I think, was to measure the strength of the force field created by the "heightened self-preserving luck" that I certainly have never noticed, but I think the doctors and scientists just wanted to get back at me for breaking all their equipment on Friday._

_I think they were pleased with the results; either that, or they were cackling with evil glee at my clear discomfort. _

_Whichever it was, having obtained their results, they moved onto seeing if my intensified dumb luck could exist without my slight tendency to have minor accidents every now and again, but certainly no more so than anyone else might if they had to pick their way through an office like Mr. Joker's. _

_Now, I was a little curious as to how one would have their clumsiness surgically removed, and I must say, I was sorely disappointed. I don't know what I was expecting, but it certainly wasn't to be seated in the corner on a stool, with a massive world atlas balanced on my head, for several hours._

_Honestly, I know it's all in the interest of science, but my back and shoulders are still aching from sitting bolt upright on a little stool for five long hours._

_And that's even after Mr. Joker kindly tried to help today when I mentioned it with slightly more emphasis than one might deem strictly necessary. In other words, when I whined periodically for an hour until he got tired of listening to me._

_It was a little strange to be partially undressed by my boss, in his office, and I don't understand why it was strictly necessary to take my shirt off to rub my shoulders a little, but I will say that he's very, very good at it. _

_Both things, actually._

_Sigh._

_As though I wasn't having enough delightful and lurid dreams about Mr. Joker skillfully doing fun things with his hands._

_Ahem! Onto the events of Sunday before the ink starts running where a thin trail of drool falls across it._

_Basically, Sunday was mostly reserved for simulating situations similar to those that I might encounter on missions, but in a more controlled environment, with no expensive and ridiculously breakable equipment hanging about. Once again, it involved the team of scientists coming at me with paint-ball guns, but this time it was done in a massive gymnasium, out of which all the equipment had been moved._

_I think it's very unfair that they're angry with me because a piece dislodged from the light fixture and almost landed on one of them as they aimed at me. After all, it's not as though _I _climbed up there to dislodge it._

_While we're on the subject of things that were utterly not my fault, how on earth did that large tree branch choose just the precise moment that poor Dr. Stevens was underneath it, preparing to tackle me to the ground and stab me repeatedly with a rubber knife?_

_I do hope he's feeling better today. Mr. Joker said he wasn't angry, that he was thrilled that the unnatural level of self-preservation was that effective._

_These, of course, didn't happen until after they realized, in an incident that caused all of us a lot of pain, that my dumb luck was directly linked to my – oh, very well, I'll admit it – clumsiness._

_Basically, the disasters still occurred when I was under threat, but they sort of…occurred to me, too. Which is how we all ended up with rather massive headaches when they strapped me down and dropped another bowling ball on my head. This one connected full-on, about which I might laugh in fifty years' time as Mr. Gentleman said I would when I politely expressed my desire to be allowed to kill the man who actually dropped the ball, as it were, although I doubt it. Then the bowling ball bounced to the ground, rolled across the floor, and struck the coat rack in the corner, which came right down on poor Dr. Clow's head. Dr. Clow backed up, clutching his head, and backed right into a shelf, which held several very large books, one of which fell off and hit Mr. Joker in the head. I apologized profusely and ran to help him, but tripped over my own foot and crashed headlong into him._

_Then we both lay on the floor, him very dazed and me very, very happy. If only I could arrange to "accidentally" trip and land on him more often…_

_Oh, dear, the ink is running again._

_At any rate, that was Sunday._

_I'm still not sure exactly why it was necessary when most of the day was a repeat of Saturday, but I'm sure Mr. Joker had a good reason._

_Today began surprisingly normally, so much so that I began to harbor the foolish hope that Mr. Joker had forgotten his Good Idea._

_This hope was quickly dashed this afternoon when I brought him in a cup of tea at around two-thirty, and he asked me to run back for three more, or four, rather, since I would of course be joining them._

_Now, you must understand, although he is very nice when it comes to letting me – occasionally – take breaks, and sometimes even have tea with him, this _does not_ happen when he has a meeting._

_When something this strange happens, it can only lead to bad._

_And it did._

_Quaking inwardly to the point that I nearly dropped the tray several times, I brought in four more cups._

_My nerves didn't steady when Mr. Joker pointed out, unnecessarily, that Agent Paper, Miss Deep, and Mister Anderson had come for a meeting at his request._

_I bid each of them a slightly shaky hello, already sickeningly aware of where this was heading._

_My Women's Intuition did not disappoint; just as we began to sip carefully at our tea, Mr. Joker told Agent Paper that the three of them would be running a few "trainer missions", and that I would be accompanying them._

_Everyone reacted basically as I expected they would, aside from Yomiko, who looked frankly delighted, when I had anticipated only politely feigned enthusiasm._

_Miss Makuhari executed the classic "spit-take" directly at poor Mr. Drake, and when she was finished sputtering, eyed me dubiously and asked when I had made the great and utterly illogical leap from useful secretary to useless field agent. Of course, she didn't phrase it this way, although I'd wager that she wanted to, poor girl._

_I certainly did._

_Mr. Drake simply wiped the tea off the side of his face, expression never changing, and muttered something about this not being his lucky day. At least, he added sardonically, I'd fit in with Agent Paper._

_Poor Yomiko! I don't know what she did to him to deserve a dig like that!_

_Obviously, she didn't either, because she forgot her rather ill-timed delight and protested hotly, before blushing brightly and sending me an apologetic smile when Miss Makuhari kicked her ankle gently._

_I don't blame Yomiko, honestly. If I weren't me, I wouldn't want to be sent out on a mission with me._

_As I am me, I don't want to be sent out on a mission at all._

_At this point, I asked a little timidly exactly what a "trainer mission" entailed._

_Mr. Joker chuckled and asked Yomiko if she would like to explain it._

_Two little pink spots of pure joy forming on her cheeks, words coming quickly with enthusiasm, Yomiko gave a brief summary: the four of us would be seeking out books that had been loaned to various places, but had not been returned within the agreed-upon allotted time._

_Well. At least her giddy joy made a little more sense now._

_"So, basically," I said, certain that I _had_ to have missed something, "we're hunting down overdue books?"_

_Mr. Joker gave a rather frightening grin, and honestly, I swear, with no word of exaggeration or untruth, that his teeth glinted at the corner._

_"Well, we are still a library, after all," he said._

_Ugh._

_I have to help forcibly round up overdues with a bibliomaniac and two other agents whom I have the sneaking suspicion, are impatient with newbies._

_AND Mr. Joker just pinged! _

_What a horrid day._

_And now, since we're leaving tomorrow morning, I have to go pack._

_Groan._

_I hate packing. _

_Possibly even more than cooking, and considering I have had kitchen utensils attack me on sight (although, that could have just been Agent Fork's idea of a joke), that's a lot._

_It's simply an exercise in aggravation._

_First, one has the fun of trying to decide what one will need, and of course, no one has bothered to tell me what one traditionally packs for a mission, or how long we'll be gone._

_Humph. They'd better not laugh at what I bring if it ends up the wrong thing._

_Then, of course, comes the fun of realizing that you still need to use something you've already packed – and packed at the bottom of your duffel._

_This leads to poking and diving in a manner that dislodges everything in the bag, which leads to having to re-pack, which is invariably harder._

_I will never, ever understand why this is. If it goes in a certain way once, one would think that it would work a second time._

_My theory is that objects expand when exposed to out-of-suitcase air. Will make a note to further study this matter._

_And so, rather than whining to my diary about having to pack, I might as well get up off my bottom and _do_ it._

_Whimper._

_Your faithful servant, _

_Wendy._

_

* * *

__March 20, 2001 – Tuesday_

_Dear Diary,_

_I can already tell that I shan't have much time over the next few days for uninterrupted scribbling, and thus shall be experimenting with a different style than my usual ranting for pages whether I have something important to say or not, which entails jotting things down periodically as they come to be, indicating the time. Must leave immediately to catch helicopter, as Drake has threatened to drag me on by my hair if I don't get it in gear, so to speak._

_9:30 a.m. – Will write later; a little busy realizing that I get violently airsick when in a helicopter, particularly a helicopter flown by an acne-riddled boy who has never done it before._

_10:15 a.m. – Am feeling marginally better, although fearing for my life as Miss Makuhari gives me death-glare after death-glare for being airsick directly onto her bag._

_10:16 a.m. – Am fearing for my life even more, as have realized that Miss Makuhari's bag was open at the time. Oh, dear._

_10:17 a.m. – Have gotten off with a mild warning. It seems as though Miss Makuhari understands airsickness, and thus I shall inhabit this mortal coil a little while longer._

_10:18 a.m. – Am now simply having fun annoying Drake, who is wondering in his gruff, disinterested way, what the hell I am scribbling about. It is apparently "not his lucky day". _

_10:19 a.m. – Suspect that Yomiko is reading over my shoulder, having finished her book five minutes after we stepped onto the helicopter. It's been nearly an hour; she must be going through withdrawal. _

_10:20 a.m. – Am going to stop writing for a time, as Drake has threatened to throw my diary out the window if I don't stop my damn scribbling. Do not wish for innocent passers-by to be killed by extremely high-velocity diary, and thus shall comply._

_10:50 a.m. – Helicopter has hit slight air turbulence. Not feeling well…_

_10:51 a.m. – Must not look too well, either; Miss Makuhari has just slid her bag away from me, giving me a wary look. Yomiko is now looking surreptitiously through it for something to read. Must advise her that whistling innocently does not actually remove you from suspicion. Personal experience to back this up. It is exceedingly difficult to "put one over" on Mr. Joker, as it were._

_10:52 a.m. – Am feeling much better after writing. Believe I may be onto something here…_

_10:53 a.m. – Mr. Drake must have been bitten by a diary as a young child, judging from the lengths he is going to in order to get this one out of his sight. Has just suggested pleasant small-talk. If he suggests a sing-along, will authorize electro-shock on his behalf._

_Yomiko__ currently reading the back of Miss Makuhari's shampoo bottle._

_11:22 a.m. – Am glad to report that no electro-shock became necessary. _

_Am also glad to report that Yomiko's last substitute teaching assignment went very well, that Drake's daughter is more adorable than ever and is at the top of her class, and that Yomiko and Miss Makuhari have become roommates.__ Not sure if this is exactly the case, but since they both said hesitantly, blushing a little, that they supposed it was when I asked after Miss Makuhari made some reference to doing their laundry, have inferred that it is something like that. Am very glad for them; clearly, they are very close friends. _

_11:23 – Have forgotten to include the most notable thing: the matter of Miss Makuhari's survival of being shot into space in a rocket! Completely forgot to wonder about this in light of my own problems. _

_Am wondering if this makes me an undeniably selfish person._

_Have concluded that it does not._

_The story runs more or less like this: after Yomiko and the book-parachute (honestly, I don't know if I would have wanted to trust that thing, and have wondered if that wasn't something to do with Miss Makuhari's opting to remain behind to certain death that turned out to not be so certain), Miss Makuhari turned around and hit her head on something. Apparently, her superpower activates itself when she is unconscious, which led her to fall through the bottom of the rocket. She came back to consciousness half of the way down (quite a nasty way to wake up, I expect), and was able to land safely, once again using her superpower and a very conveniently-placed haystack._

_I must wonder, when such a stupefying display of dumb luck exists in the world, why on earth is anyone interested in the meager little coincidences that pass for it in my case._

_11:25 a.m. – Have given up trying to answer the unanswerable, although I may present the matter to Mr. Joker as a reason that I ought to be allowed to leave the field team and come home._

_Yomiko__ has moved onto reading Miss Makuhari's conditioner bottle._

_11:26 a.m. – Have decided not to write anything further for now, as Mr. Drake is giving me a distinctly threatening look that suggests a diary plummeting helplessly from a helicopter toward the head of some unsuspecting person on the ground. Would still just as soon my harmless girlish secrets and innermost thoughts not end up being the death of someone. _

_10:58 p.m. – A lot has happened since 11:26 this morning that I'm just dying to write down; unfortunately, two things prevent me from doing so. _

_First of all, I'm almost too bloody tired to form a thought, let alone transfer it into writing._

_Secondly, I've had the extremely ill luck to room with Drake while we're in Yellowknife (Yellowknife! Bloody northern Canada, for the love of Pete!), and we all know how he feels about diaries._

_Must make a note to try to pick out of him exactly what traumatic incident in his childhood involved a harmless book of loose-leaf. _

_Must do this later, as—_

_12:47 a.m. – Have stolen confiscated diary back from Mr. Drake, and have also stolen his socks in retaliation. Humph! That ought to show him! _

_Am currently scribbling away in the washroom, since turning on the lamp would wake up Mr. Drake and incur his wrath._

_Although I'm certain I could give him a good fight if I had to, I'd rather it not come to that._

_Have just decided that I am too tired to write anything, and am thus going to bed.__ Will relate events of the past several hours, tomorrow._

_And so, dear diary, I bid you good-night._

_Your faithful servant, _

_Wendy._

_

* * *

End Notes: Okay; the plan was to have each chapter composed of a working week's worth of journal entries. Unfortunately, Wendy has become a little too wordy for me to do that. _

Beat

Okay, fine. Rhianwen has become a little too wordy. :o)

Either way, whoever we shall blame, this week's worth of entries has just reached 7000 words, and I still had a wee bit more to write. And a wee bit for me means about a thousand words. I have never written more than 6000 words for a single chapter, and I do not mean to start now, as people tell me as it is that I'm too damn wordy, and that shorter chapters would make my work far more interesting.

Of course, they say the same thing about my author's notes.

Beat

Hey, wait a minute!

Um…

Rhianwen scurries away nervously, then remembers something else, and scurries back less nervously

Anyway, since I'm almost finished the rest of the week, the next chapter should be up fairly soon. Thanks!

And please review, even if it's just to say that it sucked. I likes my feedback! :o)


	3. Mission the First

Chapter 3

_--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------_

_March 21, 2001 - Wednesday_

_Dear Diary,_

_Ah, bliss! A few uninterrupted moments to scribble!_

_Drake is still asleep, and thus unable to have a little hissy-fit at the sight of a diary. Yomiko is also still asleep; Miss Makuhari, who has asked me to stop calling her that or she'd probably punch me, said with a little grin that Yomiko must still be tired from last night._

_Honestly, I can see why! It sounded like it was quite the pillow-fight they were having next door! Drake grumbled heavily about it, about how the two of them have no shame, and about how he would never be able to sleep with all this noise going on._

_He fell asleep two minutes later, so I don't feel terribly sorry for him._

_Miss – er, Nancy is awake now, but she doesn't seem to be in the mood to talk, and is simply sitting on the other end of this couch here in the lobby, with a dreamy smile on her face. That really _must_ have been some incredible pillow fight! _

_It's at times like this when I wish I had a very close friend like that. Unfortunately, working for Mr. Joker tends to kill any chance of a social life, which might be necessary for redeveloping close friendships with girls I now see all of twice a year. Of course, I suppose I could simply put my foot down and demand weekends and evenings like everyone else, but…well, I don't want to! Who needs a social life when you have Mr. Joker?_

_Oh, dear. Perhaps _I'm _in need of the electro-shock I considered as an option for Mr. Drake yesterday._

_At any rate, onto the portion of the day not touched upon in yesterday's entry! And what a portion it was!_

_Now, I don't know if people's useless superpowers have personalities and human emotions or what, but if they do, then mine must be awfully touchy, because at around three-thirty this afternoon, Drake asked quite conversationally exactly what good extreme klutziness and unnatural self-preservation was supposed to do anyone._

_I was about to reply quite truthfully that I didn't know, that I thought Mr. Joker had got utterly mad, and that I thought Mr. Gentleman had a remarkably sick sense of humour for agreeing with the idea, when the entire helicopter tilted wildly to one side. Miss Makuhari, Drake, and even Yomiko, who nevertheless remembered to grip the packet of sugar-filled snack-food she had been reading (earlier stolen from Drake's bag once she had read everything with words in Miss Makuhari's and mine) very tightly, managed to grab onto something sturdy._

_I, however, went shooting at a diagonal into the cockpit, where I proceeded to land on poor, nervous little Acne's lap._

_This, of course, did not help his piloting skills any, and thus did we go veering wildly about until he could regain his composure._

_That, unfortunately, didn't happen until _after_ we had side-swiped a building. I think we only scraped the bottom of the side of the helicopter against the top corner of the building. Still, this likely did not exactly help to improve the helicopter, which Acne insisted we had to land, because his uncle would absolutely _kill_ him if the thing blew up in mid-air._

_Miss Makuhari and Drake each had different bits of this to nitpick, while I stared in bewilderment at the sheer lack of logic which nearly rivaled mine, and Yomiko read Drake's aftershave bottle, which she had swiped from his bag earlier._

_Miss Makuhari pointed out that if the thing exploded, his uncle wouldn't have to worry about killing him._

_He began to look a little sheepish at this, and looked even more so when Drake added that the helicopter wasn't anywhere near blowing up – all he had done was scrape a little paint off the side._

_Shrinking back into his vest, Acne (whose real name I really ought to learn) turned back to the controls, much to the relief of everyone aboard, and didn't say another word (again, much to the relief of everyone aboard)._

_Needless to say, when we landed in Yellowknife at a late, late hour, thanks to several rest stops for Acne, who declared that that scare had "messed him up for good", none of us were in the mood to even think of looking at exactly what we were to be doing while here._

_And so, to bed went four very grateful people._

_Unfortunately, morning comes very soon, and with it, the responsibilities of the day._

_Basically, our mission is to retrieve a very valuable book on snow-shoeing lent to a high-school physical education teacher named Mr. Arthur Grove, in a little town three hours from Yellowknife (where we stayed, as the town had no hotel or lodgings not full for some festival or other – always a bad sign), called Coahan, which we drove to in a rental car on what quickly became one of the most harrowing car trips of my life. Roads…so…icy! _

_Northern bloody Canada! Why the bloody freezing Northwest Territories of bloody freezing Canada, when all that this utterly uninformed little idiot brought with her were things suited to a mild, slightly rainy climate?_

_Moving on, we made our way to the secondary school in which our overdue culprit teaches, only to find out that he had mysteriously gotten sick and ran screaming from the gymnasium just as he saw us approaching down the hallway._

_This left the Phys Ed class without a teacher, and so one of us filled in._

_Which one, you ask (or probably don't ask, being a diary)?_

_The most logical choice, of course._

_And so, Yomiko and Nancy and I took off after the man, leaving poor Mr. Drake to deal with a group of unenthusiastic teenagers and an in-progress game of football (which one of those little snot-nosed brats derisively informed me was 'soccer', and that I should get my facts straight and learn something about sports, blondie; it's simply too bad rugby wasn't the sport in question, or I would have had to show the boy a thing or two about how one _plays_ a sport)._

_Not that we had an easy time of it._

_Nancy said she envied Drake, but I wouldn't have gone that far unless we had been tied up and being fed to rabid weasels with severe overbites._

_We weren't, by the way._

_We were, however, compelled to chase Mr. Grove from the town and into a snowed-over field._

_And this is where we began to wish that we had had a chance to read that book on snow-shoeing. _

_Let's just say it's not nearly as easy as "strap a big wicker thing onto your foot and have at it". _

_It took two hours for one of us to be able to figure out how to move, and then it was only to tip over and land face-first in the snow._

_Yes, that was me. What of it?_

_And what if my snowshoe caught on Yomiko's and sent her falling back into Nancy, which sent both of them falling at various angles into the snow in a heap?_

_I will say, though, that neither of them seemed to mind landing on each other in the snow as much as I'd thought they would. I suppose they'll laugh about it together later._

_Finally, the three of us were able to grasp the art of maneuvering snowshoes, and were on our merry way._

_Unfortunately, by then, it had been three hours, and Arthur Grove was hopelessly gone. _

_By this point, Drake was finished teaching the rest of the day's Phys Ed classes, and even coaching the after-school volleyball, floor-hockey, and wrestling teams, and came to find us, upon which he promptly demanded why the hell we hadn't used our various 'talents' to _make_ the snowshoes work. _

_Yomiko blinked a lot, turned very red, and admitted that that probably would have been more productive than what we ended up doing. Nancy, also very red, agreed. I, also very red, simply stayed silent._

_And Drake, naturally, grumbled some more._

_Apparently, this isn't his lucky day._

_I am beginning to wonder if this 'lucky day' thing of Drake's is merely a myth._

_Once he got the three of us out of the snow and we merrily burned our snowshoes – rather unfortunately, as we borrowed them from a local, whom the British Library now owes a goodish bit of money, as we had enough between the four of us to buy a Tootsie Pop and a piece of chewing gum – we made our way back to the motel for some much-needed rest. _

_Ostensibly, we are going to spend tomorrow finding this man and his overdue book._

_And now an angry, hulking blond apparition named Drake has just appeared in the lobby, demanding his socks, which he has apparently taken an entire day to miss, and thus, dear diary, I had best sign off for now._

_Your faithful servant, _

_Wendy._

_------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------_

_March 22, 2001 – Thursday_

_Dear Diary,_

_I hate snow. I hate people who like snow. I hate people who cause me to be out in snow. I hate people who like causing me to be out in snow._

_I also hate papaya, but that has little to do with the issue at hand, which is snow, and how much I hate it._

_This morning, we woke up to find the world covered in a blanket of freezing white, and a steady snowfall still in progress._

_When I asked the man behind the desk at the motel if this was normal at this time of year, I honestly thought he would burst a lung laughing. He laughed, and laughed, and laughed, until Drake threatened to _really_ give him something to laugh about if he didn't answer the damn question soon._

_The man answered calmly and soberly that yes, this was perfectly normal for the time of year, at which Yomiko, Nancy, and Drake looked relieved, and I felt dismayed._

_They explained that there had been the chance that someone was manipulating the weather, thus proving this simple little 'training mission' to be anything but._

_  
I told them they ought to stop watching the science fiction channel. _

_Drake told me to stop being a little smart-ass, told Yomiko to put down her book, which she had pulled out of her pocket when there came a lull in the conversation) and told Nancy to stop whistling, which she hadn't been doing. _

_I think he just didn't want her to feel left out._

_Drake is so thoughtful._

_After establishing that mounds and mounds of sticky, wet, heavy, and utterly infuriating snow is normal for the Northwest Territories of Canada in the middle of March, we set off after Mr. Grove and the world's most important ancient text on snowshoeing. _

_Honestly, I didn't realize the British Library had so many…odd books. By 'odd', of course, I mean utterly useless._

_Well, useless or not, the book had to be retrieved if any of us wanted to get home any time soon, and so off we went on our merry way._

_Perhaps 'merry' is an exaggeration._

_Off we went on our subdued, vaguely irritated way._

_The first place we went back to was Coahan's only high school, from the day before. I didn't understand why on earth Arthur Grove would go back there, after being chased from it once. Mr. Drake just sort of smirked and said he knew the type: very dedicated, but not very bright._

_This seemed to pan out very well, as almost the first person we ran into in the Phys Ed department was Mr. Grove himself._

_Yomiko sealed off the other end of the hallway with some spare flyers advertising the sale of class rings beginning in only two weeks, while Drake and Nancy each grabbed an arm._

_Me? Well, I took Drake's advice and stood very, very still, lest I trigger a disaster._

_Mr. Grove broke down into tears and begged us not to hurt him; he had meant to return the book on time, but time had just slipped away from him, and he hadn't finished it yet._

_At this point, Yomiko's eyes began to grow wide and teary with sympathy._

_Then Mr. Grove explained, with a quaver in his voice, that when he saw us approaching, he had just sort of panicked. _

_Nancy__ asked, her tone implying that she would have scratched her head but for fear of looking silly, how on earth he had known what we had come for._

_He scoffed and told us we had 'library' written all over us._

_Drake nearly punched the poor man for this, but was distracted when Yomiko, who had been doing a bit of exploring, gave a squeal of delight, and the next moment danced back around the corner, clutching the missing book._

_Mission__ accomplished._

_Of course, though, it wasn't that easy. _

_There was still the little matter of collecting the overdue fine, which Mr. Grove refused to pay._

_Ugh. _

_Eventually, since we wanted to get back to Yellowknife sometime before tomorrow, Drake held him down and Yomiko kept him still with a cue-card while Nancy went through his pockets for change._

_  
He rather seemed to enjoy this part, which I can't figure out for the life of me._

_We found $10.37 in Canadian currency, which basically meant that we could buy a gumdrop back in England. Thus, we gave it back to him, told him that his bill would be in the mail, and agreed as we left that we would simply split the overdue fine in the interest of getting out of there before one of us ended up teaching classes or drowning in snow as a direct result of snowshoes._

_Finally, finally, mission accomplished. For real that time._

_And now, it is much later, and we are back in the motel, trying to get a good night's sleep before someone finally sees fit to explain the next mission to us tomorrow._

_I had expected to be allowed to go home tomorrow, but when I voiced this hope to Yomiko, Drake, and Nancy, Yomiko merely looked at me in wide-eyed sympathy, and Nancy chuckled a bit and called me a little optimist._

_Drake said nothing. I think he's still mad about his socks yesterday._

_At any rate, dear diary, I shall now sign off and go to sleep before Drake decides that ignoring me isn't as important as getting my poor harmless loose-leaf confidante out of his sight._

_Your faithful servant,_

_Wendy._

_---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------_

_March 23, 2001 – Friday_

_Dear Diary,_

_Growl._

_That is all. _

_Mr. Joker had better watch his back just as soon as we return, because he is going to have a very furious me to deal with._

_And rest assured, that _is_ a scary thing._

_I am going to make life very, very miserable for him for a long, long time. _

_Or at least, for a few days._

_I don't want to be mean, after all._

_Still, I suppose I ought to explain what has made me Very, Very Angry._

_This morning, I made a blithe morning spring out of bed, singing happily about the many joys of being alive. _

_Mr. Drake glared at me very scathingly, as my singing woke him up at least thirty seconds before he was going to have to get up, anyway. Men._

_He nearly began to sing with joy, too, though, when I reminded him that we would be leaving Yellowknife today._

_When Yomiko and Nancy came to meet us in the lobby, they both looked sleepy, but exceedingly happy. I suppose both were so overjoyed at the prospect of leaving this very snowy, cold, and miserable place, that they couldn't sleep last night, poor girls._

_At any rate, us three girls crowded around Drake as he got in contact with Mr. Joker to find out where we would be going next, and where and when to meet Acne with the helicopter._

_Mr. Joker replied as kindly as though he'd actually been doing us a favour, that he had decided that we would remain in Yellowknife one extra day – to give us time to relax and unwind after the last mission, you know._

_Damn him._

_And this is why I was extra-cold to him when Drake gave me the phone because he had asked to speak to me, to find out how I was doing thus far. _

_Unfortunately, I have the icky suspicion that he neither noticed nor cared._

_The meanie._

_With nothing to do except wile away the long hours until nightfall, when we could go back to sleep, we each went our separate ways._

_Yomiko went out in search of a bookstore, having finished the book on snowshoeing on the way back to the motel last night. _

_Apparently, she had run out of bottles to read, too._

_I wonder if she would consider giving me back my hand cream._

_Nancy went out in search of a convenience store for some more shampoo and conditioner, since hers had gone missing. She kindly agreed to pick up some more hand cream for me, if I promised to pay her back the second we got near a bank._

_Drake went out to find something nice for his daughter. He asked my opinion on this, and when I asked him in astonishment why, he said it was because he believes I think like her in a lot of ways._

_Now, this isn't necessarily an insult. He clearly loves his daughter very much, and thus would not see anything wrong with the way she thinks._

_However, as she is currently seven years old, I believe I am quite right to be a wee bit offended by this._

_Well, I suppose now we're even for his socks, which I can't seem to find anywhere. I will have to make sure to check Yomiko's bag. She may have taken them to read the washing instructions._

_At any rate, while everyone was out on their errands, I checked us all back into our rooms, took a nice little mid-morning nap that turned into a nice little mid-afternoon nap, too, and then decided to go to the nearest bar to meet a nice boy, who would invite me out on a date, which I could off-handedly mention to Mr. Joker at some point next week._

_That did not pan out terribly well. Apparently, as the bartender explained to me, these are not men who will let a pretty face and a nice rack take their attention from their alcohol. In retrospect, I should have simply kept looking; surely, somewhere in a city the size of Yellowknife has to have a place nicer than the grubby little hole-in-the-wall I ambled into. But I was far too cold in my silly, weather-inappropriate blouse and rain coat by that point to consider anything but getting back to the motel._

_Have finally realized that the bartender was trying to tell me that I have a nice rack._

_I wonder what on earth he was talking about. A rack of what? _

_Either way, I shall simply have to invent a date to tell Mr. Joker about._

_Later._

_My inventiveness is about exhausted from the task of entertaining myself all day, even if I spent most of it asleep, which is catching up with me now, as I am not at all tired, although it is close to eleven in the evening, and I am in bed. It is mostly just for show, and because they turned off all the lights in the lobby, and I'm not about to go back outside again._

_Mr. Drake is complaining about the lamp being on, and declaring that between this and Yomiko and Nancy's nightly pillow fight, he won't sleep a wink._

_I have decided to stonily ignore him, and think wistfully about Mr. Joker, whom I have decided to forgive, although I still plan to invent a date for his benefit._

_It is now several minutes later, and the ink has begun to run. I really ought to see about finding water-proof ink for when I'm thinking about Mr. Joker._

_However, I am glad to report that Drake's gloomy prediction of not sleeping a wink has failed to come true._

_I have just glanced over at the other bed, and he is sleeping so peacefully, and looks so altogether adorable when he's not grumbling, that I am beginning to ponder the idea of falling madly in love with him so that I can pine hopelessly over someone _new_ for a change._

_Have thought better of this, as Drake has begun to snore, and it is rather difficult to think romantic thoughts about someone currently making noises distinctly like those of a chainsaw, five feet away from you._

_Have gone back to thinking wistful, romantic thoughts about Mr. Joker (resolving never to mention this brief swerving in loyalty)._

_  
However, I am finding it very difficult to concentrate, between Drake's snoring and Yomiko and Nancy's pillow-fighting._

_Have just thrown a pillow at Mr. Drake and pounded the wall at Nancy and Yomiko, shouting at both aggravating problems,_

_"Do you people mind?! Some of us are trying to daydream in here!" _

_Yomiko and Nancy fell immediately silent, in a distinctly embarrassed-sounding silence._

_  
Mr. Drake may be less contrite than they are, as he is currently advancing menacingly on me with my pillow, and informing me that it will not be my lucky day._

_Oh, dear…_

_Your faithful servant,_

_Wendy._

_---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------_

_March 24, 2001 – Saturday_

_Dear Diary,_

_Very sleepy. Spent most night pillow-fighting Drake. All thoughts of falling madly in love with him for a bit of variety in my exceedingly dull love life have been quickly and ruthlessly cleared up, although I will admit that the man wields a pillow very effectively._

_Yomiko has just asked me if I'm okay, and what the heck Drake and I were doing last night, anyway._

_Have just told her rather pettishly that it was the same thing that she and Nancy have been doing every night._

_An eerie silence has just fallen over the diner, particularly our table, broken only by the sound of Drake choking uncontrollably on a bit of pancake._

_Nancy and Yomiko are alternately staring at me incredulously, and at Drake accusingly, and Nancy has muttered something about him steering clear of Joker for a while._

_What a strange group I'm with!_

_Now Mr. Drake, who has managed to safely swallow his bit of pancake at last, is explaining frantically that we were _not _doing THAT – that he was simply beating the living hell out of me with a pillow, as no other non-lethal weapon presented itself, and killing one's fellow agents tends to be frowned upon._

_Have just asked what on earth Nancy and Yomiko have been doing, then._

_Have obviously asked the wrong question; everybody currently bright red._

_Nancy has offered to explain, if I will put down the damn diary and _listen.

_Am going to comply._

_It is now several minutes later. I am currently as bright-red as everyone else, and none of us have much of an appetite anymore. _

_Oh, hold on; Drake's better now. He's just shrugged, said it's not his business, and gone back to breakfast._

_However, he still seems to be watching the scene very…er, watchfully._

_And now I've just apologized profusely for shoving my foot so far into my mouth that the end of my shoe is knocking against the back of my throat._

_Nancy has simply shrugged and said that maybe they have been a little quieter, and that I have an interesting way of turning a phrase, by the way._

_Yomiko has jumped in here, in relation to the first part, not the second, adding that she really thought the walls were thicker in those places._

_Drake is blushing again, and has just gruffly asked us to drop it, and so I've left off after telling Yomiko and Nancy that they're the cutest couple I've ever seen (quite true, although Yomiko and anyone on earth would probably be that – she has a way of raising the cuteness factor of the nearby environment; maybe it's the glasses. Hmm…perhaps I ought to invest…no, never mind)._

_At any rate, we're about to leave the diner to catch the helicopter, and thus I had best stop scribbling for now, as Drake's expression is once again suggesting a suddenly airborne diary and a very unfortunate passer-by. _

_----------------_

_You know, being a field agent is doing distinctly harmful things to my wide-eyed girlish adoration of Mr. Joker. I have a feeling that a few more missions might kill it entirely._

_We have just found out what our next mission shall be. We are to wrest a multi-volume set about the Bermuda Triangle from an FBI agent who claimed upon borrowing it that this may be his greatest clue yet to the whereabouts of his sister._

_I do hate some of the people we meet in the library business._

_However, just wait; I haven't reached the best part yet._

_He, his partner (a pretty red-haired woman – I might think about trying that hairstyle someday; I think I'd wear a chin-length bob rather well), and the books are all headed directly for the Bermuda Triangle. _

_Mr. Joker tells us that the extensive surveillance this fellow has been under leads them to believe that he hopes to trigger an alien abduction by taking the books to the Bermuda Triangle itself._

_I wonder if I did lasting damage by knocking him into the doorframe when I tripped over my shoe on the way to get him and his partner some tea._

_  
I'd best not mention to the others that I may very well be responsible for the fact that we are currently on our way some town or other in the vicinity of the Bermuda Bloody Triangle._

_They've enough reason to be annoyed with me right now._

_Sigh._

_However, I've quite abandoned the idea that my wide-eyed girlish adoration for Mr. Joker is fading at all. _

_I was making fairly decent progress toward a good, strong grudge, and I was even able to convince myself that he's kind of effeminate (the only man I know who uses _hand cream_), but he had to go and ruin it by telling me in a very kind, thoughtful voice that he hoped I was doing well, and he'd like to meet when we returned to discuss the missions – that perhaps we could go somewhere for a drink or two – and that he was looking forward to it._

_I still don't remember my response too clearly, but I heard someone giggling like a dopey, lovestruck idiot after I gave the transmitter to Yomiko, and I have a terrible suspicion that the sound came out of me._

_After all, what else could that amused, knowing expression of Nancy's meant?_

_Well, probably any number of things._

_Perhaps I simply get paranoid when I'm horribly over-tired. Going to see if a nap convinces me that the entire world has not known for years that I'm very…appreciative of Mr. Joker's various charms._

_Your faithful servant,_

_Wendy._

_------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------_


	4. A Lull in the Action, A Rise in the Trau...

Chapter 4

_

* * *

_

_March 25, 2001 – Sunday_

_Dear Diary,_

_Can't write today – busy. Hmph! "Day of rest", indeed!_

_Your faithful – but very busy – servant, _

_Wendy._

* * *

_March 26, 2001 – Monday_

_Dear Diary, _

_Well, this is where it begins. Not _where_, exactly – more like _when_ it begins. Our trip to Florida (although, the trip itself is over and we are all currently slugging down coffee to try to regain some emotional and mental equilibrium from what was a very trying flight, indeed) to try to catch up with a book-napping madman. _

_Yomiko__ will probably never forgive him._

_Nancy__ won't, either, but for a different reason. Apparently, Yomiko was too worried about the books last night for their usual…'pillow fight', and I can imagine that this has made her none too happy._

_I suppose I should probably explain why, if we're only on our way to Florida today, yesterday was so busy._

_Well, it began by being wakened up far too early by someone shaking my shoulder. At first, having gotten used to it, I thought it was Mr. Drake, warning me that I'd better stop cuddling up or I'd be sleeping out in the snow. Sigh. I do wish we had been moved to the double room that we actually booked on the first night in Yellowknife instead of the third._

_Oh, come now; you can't exactly control what you cuddle when you're sleeping, and if you're groggy enough, Drake looks something like a giant teddy bear._

_I consider that little remark to be revenge for telling me I think like his seven-year old daughter._

_Of course, since he will never find out about it, as he would not likely go anywhere near my diary even if I would let him, I suppose the revenge is rendered fairly ineffective._

_Still, I was in the middle of a story. Or rather, at the beginning of a story, which I killed by rambling about Drake and his distinctly teddy-bear appearance. _

_Now for the story._

_I woke up yesterday morning, being shaken gently by someone who was _not_ Drake. It was, instead, Mr. Joker, who looked a little confused and not terribly happy when I called him Drake and told him I would stop cuddling if he'd shut up and let me go back to sleep. _

_I have no idea how on earth my boss got my house-key, and at the moment, I don't even want to consider it. I'd rather cherish my imagined scenario in which he took mine from my key ring and had another copy made for the purposes of someday doing something very daring and fun and involving a hasty removal of clothing, than deal with the probable reality of his having made a lucky guess that I would have a spare key under the Welcome mat like everyone else on the planet._

_Either way, the experience of having Mr. Joker in my bedroom woke me up very, very quickly, and I leapt out of bed and started apologizing for over-sleeping, unfortunately before I remembered that I had been far too warm Saturday night due to my piling every blanket in the flat on top of me, and thus slipped out of my pajamas as an easy alternative to actually removing some of the blankets._

_Mr. Joker stared at me curiously, noting that he hoped I wasn't planning on coming to the Library this way._

_I think I handled the situation very well, after diving back into my nest of blankets to preserve some modesty. I laughed nervously that no, coming to work naked had never been on my To-Do List. Aside from that one time in college, but you know how it is: alcohol and rowdy friends._

_Mr. Joker replied somewhat sheepishly that yes, he knew how it was, and looked a bit red._

_I absolutely MUST try to pick this story out of him later._

_Oh, dear…the ink seems to be running again, and rather badly this time. I had best get back to the story._

_I dressed hastily, all the more hastily as, strangely enough, Mr. Joker made no move to leave while I did so, and we were off._

_When we reached the Library (and I found myself once again spending my Sunday there, thank-you-very-much), Drake, Yomiko, and Nancy were ready and waiting, although grudgingly so. They seemed to be in much the same mind about it as me: not the worst thing to happen, but sleep would be better._

_Then we proceeded to have a meeting best described as the very exact literal opposite of lively._

_  
I suppose that would be dead._

_Well, perhaps it wasn't quite dead, but it came very close._

_Drake nodding off periodically didn't help._

_Still, after a time (once Drake was kicked awake by Nancy and Yomiko was pried away from her book, again by Nancy) the four of us managed to yawn out an account of what exactly what happened in Yellowknife (aside from the four of us developing nasty colds in a rather impressive show of delayed reaction)._

_Mr. Joker did not look pleased._

_When Drake demanded exactly what was wrong with our report, Mr. Joker replied that nothing at all was wrong with its method of presentation, but that several things were wrong with the content, or if we preferred, with the way we had actually carried out the mission._

_Drake pointed out, through gritted teeth that clearly bespoke his great longing to request that Mr. Joker stop being a smartass, that this was what he had meant._

_Mr. Joker replied quite calmly that not only did we fail to collect the overdue fine, but that I had clearly come away with no idea as to the appropriate conduct of a field agent, or the opportunity to utilize my unique ability._

_I felt the need to point out here that none of us had been particularly useful, as the mission had been one of the stupidest in known history._

_Mr. Joker shut me up very effectively. I suppose he learned from Mr. Gentleman how to sit at someone. _

_However, he wasn't nearly so effective at silencing Nancy, who took my complaint and ran with it, as it were, pointing out that the fact we had pointlessly wasted two days on a training mission that failed utterly to train the trainee (me, I assume) at all, was not our fault, since I had clearly not been told at all what to expect._

_Mr. Joker replied that this was exactly why he had sent me out with the three of them: he wanted people who would be willing and able to help a 'newbie' acquire the necessary skills._

_As he poured another cup of tea, I took the moment to glance around the group._

_Nancy was shaking her head in despair, forehead propped against one hand._

_Drake was emanating a fairly clear aura of, "I have SO many better things to be doing than this"._

_Yomiko__ was utterly unaware of the world around her, since a book had come into her line of vision._

_It was easy to tell which of these three would be the most lenient and helpful to a newbie._

_Yes, I was very, very glad that Yomiko had been along. I shudder to think of the sad state I'd be in now, if I'd been left to the kindly natures of Nancy and far worse, of Drake._

_At any rate, Mr. Joker proved his latent tendencies towards a nature as a right bastard, and suggested that, since I blatantly had no idea what I was doing, more training would be in order._

_Groan._

_And that, since the three of them would be the ones to work with me, perhaps they would like to hang about and ensure that I was trained in the manner they would find easiest to work with._

_Hah. _

_At least I wasn't suffering alone._

_I won't go into a careful and detailed account of Sunday's training, mostly because the detailed accounts of Friday, Saturday, and Sunday of last week should suffice, but partly because I don't think any of us want to relive it._

_I'll say only that Drake learned how one woman's latent dumb luck, coupled with a supernaturally strong propensity for accidents, can be of use to her, while being extremely dangerous to everyone unlucky enough to be around her._

_  
I do hope his nose has stopped bleeding from being hit with the bowling ball that the scientists just _had _to bounce off my head one more time 'for old time's sake, you know, dear'. _

_For that matter, I hope Dr. Phillips' nose has stopped bleeding from that nasty punch Drake delivered before Yomiko and Nancy could restrain him._

_Honestly, I don't understand any more than they seemed to exactly why we needed to revert back to the 'ball-dropping'. _

_I wish I could say that things got better once we began going through simulated missions together, but…well, I don't like to lie to my diary._

_Honestly, I had no idea that lightning could strike with that kind of accuracy. Indoors. Poor, poor, poor Dr. Jameson. As soon as he woke up, he demanded to be removed from this project straightaway. _

_I wish I could do that._

_Not that I haven't tried, but Mr. Joker just laughed and said he could tell that I was enjoying myself, despite my complaints. _

_Humph. Men. Remarkably skilled at seeing only what they want to see, the whole lot of them. _

_But the world would be a sad, sad place without Mr. Joker nevertheless. Just the thought is making me misty._

_Alright, then! Back to the story, which is essentially over. The training lasted until about nine o' clock in the evening, and when it ended, Nancy, Yomiko, and Drake trudged wearily back to their hotel, while I prepared to trudge wearily for home._

_Apparently, Mr. Joker has a better memory than I do, however, because he reminded me that he had asked me to keep the evening open so that we could discuss some aspects of the past few days over a drink or two. _

_  
I think I recall something about that, although I doubt I would have argued the point either way._

_Still, I'm absolutely certain I don't remember anything about the 'discussing' being done at his place._

_Either way, it hit a bit of a snag when I recalled, unfortunately not until after a fairly sizeable drink, that my alcohol tolerance is utterly pitiful._

_Long story short, coupled with the fact that I am a sleepy drunk rather than a rowdy drunk or a…er…'playful' drunk, I managed to wake up at my boss' home, quite contentedly cuddled up to him, for the second time in a month._

_Sigh._

_Now, _this_ makes me sad. Even the involvement of alcohol couldn't turn the incident into something steamy and indecent rather than poor, sleepy little Wendy not being able to stay awake long enough to put on her shoes and walk to the car. _

_What exactly do I have to _do_ to get a steamy, sordid, and indecent encounter?_

_Perhaps someday, when we get back, I'll just jump him on his way out of his office, and remove his pants by force._

_Or perhaps not._

_And so that was Sunday._

_Monday got off to a ripping start by, as I've said, waking up on my boss' couch, cuddled peacefully up to him until the point of waking up, and after that, suffering the effects of a mild hangover – really, just a headache and a sensation that food would be fatal right then._

_Mr. Joker moved away drowsily and checked the time, and then woke up very suddenly and completely in a shout of dismay that gave me the strangest urge to laugh hysterically._

_Oh, come now; who wouldn't laugh a little at their boss shouting, "Oh, bum!", I ask you?_

_I stopped laughing when Mr. Joker explained grimly that he had planned to have me back at the Library an hour and a half ago, to negate the problem of having to explain why, once again, we were arriving together, and one of our cars had been left in the lot._

_Oh, bum._

_It turned out just as badly as we had expected, and after the first ten minutes of twenty-one people asking the same question and laughing as hysterically as if they were being either witty or original, Mr. Joker looked ready to kill someone, and I felt the same._

_Although, I must say, Mr. Joker's utterly baffled expression when Yomiko asked us, blushing slightly and with a vaguely impish smile, if we had had a nice pillow-fight last night, was hilarious._

_I was very tempted to reply, just loudly enough for Drake, who was pointedly ignoring the whole conversation, to hear, that yes, it had been incredibly nice, and that Mr. Joker looked very good indeed wearing feathers and nothing else._

_The fact that Mr. Joker was standing directly to my right stopped me, although just barely. _

_At any rate, after a short delay involving Acne forgetting where he had left his keys to the helicopter (I am personally still fuzzy as to whether the helicopter starts with a key, or if Acne, whose real name I still do not know, is just a bit of a twit), we were off to Florida._

_I honestly have to wonder why we never just take an airplane anywhere. _

_At least then, we might get some peanuts out of it, instead of the privilege of hearing Acne's Elvis impersonation._

_I've never liked Elvis, ever since that incident in the fourth grade with the sequins, and Acne certainly didn't help me to gain an appreciation for "The King"._

_Hmm…I wonder if something like that is responsible for Drake's extreme diary phobia. If so, I feel nearly bad for playing to it so mercilessly._

_Nearly._

_  
After all, I'm still a little annoyed with him for pointedly whistling "Heartbreak Hotel" at me for the last four hours of the flight, and then half an hour in a diner, until I dumped my coffee on his head._

_Incidentally, I'm also annoyed at him for dumping a very gooey piece of chocolate cake on my head in retaliation. I wasn't aggravatingly singing at him, so I honestly consider this an unprovoked – oh, alright, a barely-provoked – attack._

_I'm also not particularly thrilled with Acne (who, for some reason joined us for coffee once we reached Florida instead of going away) for taking a photo and informing us with a grin that it was for Mr. Joker. After all, some men like that sort of thing, don't-you-know?_

_However, Nancy and Yomiko seemed to get a good deal of amusement out of it; Nancy whispered something to Yomiko, indicating the chocolate icing dripping down my nose, and Yomiko turned bright pink and giggled softly._

_Oh, dear; I have the feeling that their 'pillow-fighting' will be done with especial fervour, especially considering the purchase Nancy made before we left: a small jar of chocolate body paint._

_I do wonder if this day would cease to become more traumatizing with each second, if I went to sleep._

_Am going to try it._

_Good night._

_Well! That was an exercise in failure! _

_I shall attempt to explain, calmly and coolly, what exactly happened._

_Hold on; this may take a moment of preparation. I'm still shaking with embarrassment and seeing red with anger at the ghastly stupidity of seemingly everything that happens to me._

_Bloody universe._

_You see, due to the need for much greater mobility than that of a rental car while exploring the Bermuda Triangle, our good, Elvis-singing friend, Acne (whose real name, by the way, is Benny) is to be a much larger part of this mission than 'drop us of and bugger off for a few days, there's a good lad'. _

_A pity, really._

_His being a larger part of this mission means that he will be spending all his time with us._

_Including at night._

_  
And since it is apparently inappropriate to have a man rooming with two women, Acne (I just can't seem to call him anything else) has been placed with Drake and me._

_You needn't think I don't see the faltering logic in this; it's just easier to ignore it._

_At any rate, I didn't learn of this development until I woke up to find myself grabbing poor Drake in an awkward place._

_Now, if I had been smart, I would have simply removed my hand and slept in the bathtub or something. I would have been away from both Drake and Acne, _and_ I would have automatically gained first dibs on the shower in the morning!_

_However, it is a somewhat startling experience to wake up from a dream of one's boss (never mind what we were doing!) to find oneself in the process of removing an entirely different man's clothing._

_Thank goodness I woke up when I did._

_Still, I wish I had been able to control the urge to scream bloody murder and wake up both men._

_Poor Drake.__ He's probably still a little deaf in his left ear._

_When I asked as calmly as I think is reasonable in such a situation why on earth he was here, he snorted and said that he had tried to share a bed with Acne, who had done much the same thing to him, and that if he had to have any sleeping person try to undress him in a dream-state, he'd rather it be a girl at least, thank-you-very-much._

_I have decided to let him live, as this is a rather good point, and he has kindly refrained from suggesting that Acne and I share a bed to see what happens._

_And so, dear diary, I will now endeavour to go to sleep as peacefully and comfortably as doing so in the bathtub will permit me._

_Oww__…_

_Your faithful servant,_

_Wendy._

* * *

End Notes: Heh-heh-heh…ugh. I don't think this chapter really went anywhere. Of course, considering the rest of the story, this mightn't be anything out of the ordinary. At any rate, I hope it was fun despite its utter "nonsequitiness." :o) 


	5. Mission the Second

Chapter 5

_------------------------------------------------------------------------_

_March 27, 2001 – Tuesday_

_Dear Diary,_

_Here is a fact that may not be commonly known: it is exceedingly difficult to get a good night's sleep in a bathtub, no matter how many extra pillows and blankets you intimidate the poor desk boy into bringing in for you._

_Oh, very well; no matter how many extra pillows and blankets you pout the poor desk boy into bringing in for you._

_Still, the fact remains that I am very tired and very, very cranky today._

_My back hurts, my neck hurts, my legs hurt, my arms hurt, and my head hurts from where hit it repeatedly on the faucet by insisting upon sitting up quickly every time I was woken up by a snore from Drake, a sleepy and rather disturbing phrase about doing decidedly inappropriate things to Demi Moore from Acne, or a noise of unidentified cause from Yomiko and Nancy's room next door._

_Eventually, at around three this morning, I realized exactly where my exceedingly brilliant bathtub plan was striking its snag, and turned around so that my head was on the other end._

_And thus, my ankle hurts horribly from banging it on the faucet every time I stupidly tried to turn over._

_Honestly, what on earth is the British Library's problem with checking a group of agents into _three_ hotel rooms instead of _two_ hotel rooms? It doesn't seem as though it could possibly be as difficult as…well, as sleeping in a bathtub, for instance._

_Or as putting up with Acne when he kindly asks with a leering sort of grin on his greasy little face, if I would like to sleep with him tonight._

_He has been duly hit with an empty coffee cup, as we are in the diner across the street from our hotel for breakfast, and is now clutching his head and whimpering in pain._

_Ah! I feel much better now! I'm less achy and even starting to think that sleeping in the bathtub was fun for the sheer novelty, Nancy and Yomiko are an adorable couple once more instead of being simply aggravating by virtue of being happier than me, the children at the table over from us are likewise adorable, even the sky seems bluer!_

_I think we've discovered Acne's useless superpower._

_And I thought mine was utterly useless and more trouble than it was worth!_

_  
I suppose I ought to consider myself lucky that I don't put people in a better mood by letting them beat me up._

_Oh, my. _

_Drake is looking thoughtfully at Acne and hefting his empty coffee mug in a way that bespeaks great pain for the poor little boy in the near future._

_Well, monkey see, monkey do. That's how it is with a man, I suppose._

_However, I'm not sure what to make of the fact that Nancy is likewise gazing consideringly at Acne and brandishing her butter knife._

_Acne has just announced that he will 'grab something quick from that gas station over there' and meet us at the helicopter in an hour._

_I suppose we must have frightened him; the nearest gas station, as I recall from the map that I might have glanced at all of twice, is about a forty-minute walk from here._

_Yomiko__ is currently reproaching us for being so mean to Acne._

_Nancy__ has just asked her if she would rather he were still here._

_Yomiko__ seems to be having a very hard time saying yes._

_Poor girl; it must be tough to have a reputation of being kind and sweet to live up to._

_I made sure to kill that silly rumour about myself the moment I first heard it._

_It hasn't made it stop, or anything; I would simply like it to be stated that I did my very best._

_Still, to make a lateral move back to the topic, I can't honestly say that anyone was sorry to see Acne – er, Benny – go, despite Yomiko's valiant efforts at pretending to be. He's just too obtrusively cheerful for so early in the morning._

_If he has to be happy at ridiculous hours, the least he could do is keep it to himself and refrain from smiling beamingly at us and trying to lighten the mood._

_Ah, well. The Utensil Brigade drove him off._

_Nancy, Drake, and I are feeling very pleased with ourselves._

_At least, I am._

_I assume Nancy is, too, because she looks marginally more awake and is watching Acne (I give up! I can't call him Benny! I just can't do it!) scamper down the street, with a smug look on her face._

_As for Drake, I know he must be in a good mood, because he hasn't threatened to throw my diary out a window yet this morning!_

_Evidently, I spoke prematurely, and thus I shall stop recording the absolutely nothing going on right now and rejoin the world._

_9:48 a.m. – Have resorted to this form of journaling once again. Concluded that it must be a "Tuesday thing". Will remark again when something happens, aside from Nancy threatening terrible vengeance upon Acne if he does not cease his Elvis routine very soon. Wording mine, not hers._

_10:08 a.m. – It has been twenty minutes, and Acne has not begun to sing again._

_10:09 a.m. – In an incredible rush of joy, have informed Nancy that she is my new hero._

_10:10 a.m. – Must have overdone the shiny, adoring eyes, as she is edging away nervously._

_10:11 a.m. – Nancy is looking less nervous and irritated, as Yomiko has just agreed with equally shiny eyes, that Nancy is her hero, too. _

_Now Nancy is looking rather pleased, and Drake is looking rather nauseous._

_10:12 a.m. – Have moved Nancy's duffel bag out of range in case Drake becomes airsick. _

_The poor bag has suffered enough._

_10:13 a.m. – Should not have said this last part out loud. _

_Am now trying frantically to remove my foot from my mouth and explain that the "poor bag" was the duffel, and not Nancy herself._

_10:15 a.m. – Acne has begun to lighten a mood that did not need lightening in the slightest by belting out "Jailhouse Rock"._

_Am going to refrain from throwing something at him, as he is currently flying the helicopter.__ Why, oh why, could the Library not have invested in a co-pilot as well as a third hotel room?_

_Would feel much safer if Yomiko was piloting._

_While reading._

_Seven books at once._

_10:16 a.m. – Upon having noted as much to Drake, he has chuckled and remarked that at least if we die, we won't have to hear any more Elvis._

_Have admitted that this is a good point, but that I would rather live to throttle Benny when we land._

_For some reason, this made Drake laugh as heartily as I have ever heard him, and he has remarked almost kindly that we should be running into the boat our surveillance informs us that the book-napper stole, any minute._

_11:16 a.m. – Am beginning to wonder exactly _which_ minute will see us finding our elusive book-and-boat-napper._

_Have asked Drake sweetly which moment he meant._

_11:17 a.m. – Apparently, I am to stop being a smart-ass._

_11:21a.m. – Now I am being told, predictably, that if I don't quit scratching away at this damn book, Drake will throw it out the—_

_11:21 p.m. – What an eventful twelve hours we've just had! I hardly know where to begin! _

_Yomiko__, peeking over my shoulder to alleviate the book-withdrawal she must be suffering due to having read the fourteen books Nancy allowed her to bring within the first two hours of the trip, has suggested with a playful smile, that I begin at the beginning._

_Now she's blushing at having been caught peeking, and Nancy is smiling this sweet, fond smile._

_Honestly, the two of them could rot a person's teeth!_

_Right, then; the story._

_I was cut off from finishing my sentence earlier, predictably, by Drake throwing my journal from the window of the helicopter. I was getting all set up to be outraged and annoyed with him, when the world went suddenly and inexplicably very dark, and seconds later, our helicopter was enveloped in a beam of light._

_For some reason, as the light grew more intense, we all froze in place, as though posing for shots on a science fiction channel documentary, and I could swear that I heard the click and whir of several cameras._

_Apparently, we all had a very good time posing like idiots, because despite the fact that all our watches told us it was 11:30 when the world returned to normal, it seemed like mere seconds had passed, if that._

_Once the light had faded to normal and the sudden dark had seemingly buggered off to the other side of the world where it belonged right then, Acne began to panic. He ranted about how the Bermuda Triangle was going to eat us, and began telling the poor, confused man over the intercom that Flight 19 wasn't turning back, even if it meant the deaths of all of us._

_Then he turned away from the controls (which gave us all a bit of a fright) and asked with a sheepish grin if we could land for a rest stop – that adventure had done bad things to his bladder, as none of us wished to know._

_I asked pettishly if he were of American descent, only to have Drake growl menacingly that if I associated Americans in general with their president one more time, I'd be going the way of my diary._

_While I was busily ignoring him, we landed so poor little Acne (who is apparently very unnerved by bright lights) could go empty._

_As Drake, Yomiko, Nancy and I all hung about by the helicopter, we were approached by a tall, dark-haired, ample-nosed man in a dark suit and a ghastly ugly tie._

_A pretty redheaded woman in a wonderful ivory pinstriped suit seemed to be trying to talk him out of it, but he nevertheless went right on approaching._

_If only men would listen to the great wisdom dispensed by women once in a while, the world would be a better place._

_I recognized both of them at once: our book-nappers, naturally._

_Drake apparently recognized them, too, because he adopted a fierce expression which the dark-haired man ignored utterly._

_He said in a low, intense tone that he had seen the light in the sky, and had moments later been compelled to leap into the water and thus out of the path of a high-velocity diary._

_Sigh. I knew Drake would nearly kill someone that way. _

_Much to my horror, Mr. Mulder went on to inform us that he and his partner, Miss Scully (the exceedingly stylish redhead) had taken the liberty of reading it._

_I could have cheerfully killed both of them, although to her credit, Miss Scully did look horribly embarrassed._

_Mr. Mulder went on to say that I should just talk to this Mr. Joker guy about how I felt, if Batman villains were really my type. What a strange man!_

_Then he said rather coolly that he didn't exactly appreciate my implying that he was brain-damaged, although he would overlook it, as most people implied or outright said the same thing._

_Miss Scully took that moment to outright say it. She also told me that she appreciated what I had said about her hairstyle, since imitation is the sincerest form of flattery, after all, but that I might want to think carefully about the matter before I go cutting off all my hair._

_I was about to agree to give the matter all the careful, sober thought that such an important one as hairstyling deserved, when Mr. Mulder broke in, apparently very miffed at being ignored in the middle of a story._

_He asked me why I had stopped writing at exactly 11:21._

_Now, one would think that, if he were so interested, he would stay quiet long enough to let me answer._

_However, this would assume an entirely different code of logic and courtesy than Mr. Mulder seems to work with._

_He hurried on and said that he had a feeling he knew the cause: a close encounter._

_I asked exactly why it was so important that I'd stopped writing at 11:21 – it seemed a rather random time to me._

_He said solemnly that a lot of really weird things have seemed to happen to him at 11:21, both a.m. and p.m. _

_Miss Scully said that they seemed to happen to her since joining Mr. Mulder to work on the X-Files, and that he needn't think she had forgotten that he was very much to blame for it._

_Mr. Mulder pointedly ignored this, and said with a vague undertone of triumph, that he was willing to bet his entire tie collection that the cause of my abrupt stop in journaling had been a close encounter._

_I said that the cause had been, as he said, a close encounter. _

_He was not impressed when, after giving him time to get excited enough to almost emote, I went on to explain that it had been a close encounter with an angry Drake, who hurled the diary from the window of the helicopter. Indeed, he looked a little put-off, although Nancy, Drake, and Miss Scully seemed to find it amusing._

_I suppose that, despite her amusement, Nancy must have felt some sympathy for poor idiotic Mr. Mulder, because she explained what happened right after._

_It was rather worrisome to see someone's eyes light up that much at an account of another's misfortune._

_Still, I suppose it is understandable when one considers that his sister was taken away by aliens – apparently – and that every time they saunter down to say hello (we're clearly talking about some very bored aliens, I expect) he comes closer to finding poor Samantha._

_Honestly, where were those bloody aliens when I was growing up and wishing that my aggravating, loud, smelly, and borderline abusive older brothers would disappear mysteriously?_

_Still, without them, I likely would have discarded the idea of going into the rugby team without a thought. _

_As it was, a girl needs to know how to defend herself._

_Or at least, how to develop a high pain tolerance._

_At any rate, Mr. Mulder went on to tell us that he planned to summon the aliens using a rare series of volumes on the subject of the Bermuda Triangle, from the very center of the Triangle itself, and that we could come along if we liked._

_Either he didn't realize our connection with the Library from which he obtained said books, or he's simply mad._

_Not to imply that those two are mutually exclusive, of course. _

_When he offered, I could practically see little pictures of books flash into Yomiko's eyes like money signs in a cartoon._

_Drake and Nancy must have seen them, too, because they reluctantly agreed to go with Mr. Mulder._

_And thus, the six of us set off in their stolen boat, after carefully losing Benny (I managed it! I finally managed it!)._

_After all, it might have gotten frightening, and we weren't about to place much trust in his bladder at that point._

_About an hour into the trip, Nancy fell quite suddenly asleep, and soon after, so did Drake._

_Personally, I think Drake saw how Mr. Mulder suddenly stopped talking to Nancy when she fell asleep, and got the idea of faking it in order to avoid conversing with the poor man, but I could be wrong. I've been told that it's happened before._

_As for Miss Scully, she's clearly been with Mr. Mulder for a very long time, because almost as soon as we left in the boat, she fell asleep, which only serves to solidify my suspicion that neither her nor Drake were really asleep._

_I'd believe that Nancy was legitimately asleep, if only due to how late I saw her and Yomiko's lights burning last night. If they were up that late, no wonder she was tired today!_

_At any rate, after searching the boat for a book and finding none, Yomiko told Mr. Mulder a little timidly that she hoped we would be able to find his sister._

_Mr. Mulder's expression shifted to something that was almost a smile, and he told both of us that he did, too, but that his reasons for hunting down these aliens wasn't entirely to find his sister._

_When I asked, against my better judgment, what his other reason was, he smiled a full-out smile._

_I wish he hadn't, as it has been a long time since I have seen something that creepy. _

_Then he told us that about six weeks ago, he had taken several articles to the dry cleaners, who had lost all of them._

_Yomiko__ and I stared blankly at him, and I'm sure Yomiko was wondering, as I was, what this could possibly have to do with aliens._

_Don't worry; we found out soon enough._

_Mr. Mulder explained that the dry cleaning industry has long been in league with the aliens to pilfer the choicest articles of clothing from unsuspecting humans for decades now. Apparently, it dates all the way back to the 1920's, and involves the government, too._

_Yomiko__, bless her soul, tried to make sense of this by asking, slowly, if Mr. Mulder meant that we were on this impromptu trip to regain his dry cleaning, and why exactly he was so certain that the aliens had taken it._

_Mr. Mulder replied, scoffing, that it was obvious. _

_At this point, Miss Scully woke up and, upon tuning into the conversation, rolled her eyes and asked Mr. Mulder if he was still on about his dry cleaning._

_He informed her, with trace amounts of indignation in his tone, that the aliens had "totally stolen his dry cleaning, Scully"._

_Drake woke up at this point, very grumpy, and demanded to know why the hell Mr. Mulder didn't just buy some new dry cleaning, then._

_Mr. Mulder explained airily that his favourite shirt had been among the articles taken, and that he had never been able to find another shirt with just that cut and colour._

_Apparently, black shirts with green alien head buttons are not easy to come by._

_I think this is a good thing, but I would never dream of telling Mr. Mulder that._

_After all, this might make him suspect that I'm in league with the aliens and the dry cleaning industry._

_They also apparently built and control the Bermuda Triangle, by the way, which is why he needed to go to the centre of it to summon the aliens with the books._

_What a strange man! I realize I've already said this at some point, but it really must be said again._

_Well, we eventually got to our destination, at the centre of the Bermuda Triangle. _

_I had some slight misgivings about it, after hearing Acne talk in tones somehow more eager than frightened, that we'd probably never be seen again, but Drake took me point-by-point through a lengthy lecture on exactly why the most famous incidents of disappearances surrounding the Devil's Triangle were easily explained away in terms other than paranormal activity._

_I felt a lot better after that, even if Mr. Mulder looked a little miffed at Drake's description of "nutcases who believe in that crap", and even better, the lecture took up the rest of the boat ride, so we didn't have to listen to Mr. Mulder lament for his missing dry cleaning any more!_

_Now, this is the part of the story that might get a little incoherent from sheer annoyance. Honestly, it was the single stupidest and most aggravating ten minutes of my life, and it signaled the most utterly wasted three days of my life._

_Aside from our last mission, of course._

_Still, I suppose I ought to get to explaining._

_Once we reached the center of the Triangle, Mr. Mulder began searching through his duffel bag for _our_ missing books, but to no avail._

_He told Miss Scully with an odd combination of panic and sheepishness, that he couldn't find the books, and asked her if she could look for him._

_Miss Scully sighed heavily, rubbing her forehead in irritation, and told Mr. Mulder that there was no point in her looking for the books; she already knew they weren't in his bags, or even on the boat._

_Time seemed to slow as Mr. Mulder looked up with a suspicious glare from his position crouched on the floor to check beneath his seat. He asked with an ominous sort of calm why exactly this was._

_Miss Scully seemed about to answer, but was interrupted in doing so by the beeping of Drake's communicator, which he had switched off earlier when one of the boys in the control room began humming "Blue Suede Shoes". I suppose it made Drake a little nervous when I came flying through the air at him, intent upon destroying the communicator and thus stopping the pain of Elvis._

_I knew even before Drake answered that it was Mr. Joker. Somehow, when he contacts someone, the beeping of the communicator, the ringing of the phone, or what have you, always sounds politer and less obtrusive._

_When Drake answered, Mr. Joker said, more sheepishly than I've heard him say anything in a long, long time, that we could turn around and come home now._

_Yomiko__ protested, aghast, that we hadn't recovered the books yet, and it might take a little longer, since the book-napper had lost them._

_Mr. Joker told Yomiko that there was no need of looking for them where we were, as they were currently at the Library, sitting in front of him on his desk._

_A loud silence reigned throughout the book._

_Finally, Miss Scully spoke up with an amount of poise and calm that I only pray to someday be able to emulate. She told Mr. Mulder that she had found the books in their office about three weeks ago, and packaged them for mailing straightaway. _

_Mulder__ demanded to know what gave her the right to go through his things, which sent her into a bit of a tirade about how she wouldn't have to, if she damn well had somewhere of her own to work instead of having to sneak a corner of his desk or work at home. Not only this, she added, but she was getting tired of the British guy continuously phoning and very politely threatening her life._

_At this point, Mr. Joker spoke up and thanked Miss Scully for returning the books so hastily, and she replied that it was no problem, and that she usually had to do such things for Mr. Mulder: return his library books, return his videos, make sure his heating, water, and electric bills had been paid…_

_Drake broke in here, saying angrily that he didn't care how big an idiot Mr. Mulder was, because Mr. Joker had to be at least as big an idiot to not have noticed that the books were on his desk the whole time, until after he had sent a field team out to retrieve them._

_Mr. Joker protested over the communicator that it hadn't been his fault; the books had simply been misfiled, and that the person responsible had been sacked._

_I said hesitantly that I supposed that, since as far as I knew I still had a job, I hadn't been the one to misfile the books, and Mr. Joker assured me that I hadn't, but he was still quite interested in sacking me, albeit in an entirely different way. Then he gave a horrified exclamation and requested that we all forget he had spoken._

_I wonder if he means he wants to come to my family picnic with me and join the potato sack race, after all. I _was_ only teasing when I asked, but it could shape up to be a lot of fun. And if he thinks he's getting out of it now, he is sorely mistaken._

_Will make sure to tell him that when we get back._

_Will also make sure to ask Nancy tomorrow why what he said made everyone aside from Yomiko snicker._

_Have already asked Yomiko why everyone else was snickering, and she simply shrugged in confusion and said that perhaps they found the mental image of Mr. Joker putting me into a sack to be a funny one._

_Either way, following Mr. Joker's call, we set off back to Florida, a very despondent and severely annoyed group. _

_Mr. Mulder and Yomiko were the most despondent of us, Mr. Mulder over the now eternal loss of his dry cleaning, and Yomiko over not being able to read the stolen books on the way back to the Library as she had hoped._

_Drake was predictably the most annoyed, and more than once began to tell me forebodingly that he would throw my diary out the window if I didn't put it away, only to droop a little dejectedly when he saw that I was not, in fact, writing in it right then, having learned that his threats were not empty ones._

_Still, even the most aggravating of situations has to end sometime, and this one was no exception. _

_We eventually got back to Florida, at which point Drake made an executive decision: we would NOT be leaving for London right away. He wanted the chance to hang out somewhere good for a change, instead of bloody Yellowknife._

_I can't say I blame him._

_Apparently, neither did Nancy and Yomiko, as they offered absolutely no protest, and quite jumped at the chance to get as far from Drake, me, Mr. Mulder, and Miss Scully as possible._

_It was just as well that none of us particularly felt like dealing with a helicopter ride right then, as finding Benny proved impossible._

_Yomiko__ tried very hard to be worried about him, but it was fairly clear that even she couldn't manage it._

_Drake, Nancy, and I didn't try._

_And thus, after a thoroughly fun and relaxing evening of getting hopelessly lost in side streets and finding my way again thanks to my uncanny and catlike sense of direction – and, let me stress, NOT thanks to dumb luck – I eventually made my way back to the hotel._

_And now, as I am receiving another vicious look from Drake, who is sitting next to me in the booth within this perfectly nice seedy little coffee shop, I shall end here for tonight. After all, I am going to have to share a bed with him tonight if Benny ever finds his way back to the hotel, and I would rather not incur his (Drake's) wrath enough to wake up smothered by a pillow._

_Or rather, to not wake up as a result of being smothered by a pillow._

_I honestly do quite like living, you know._

_Your faithful servant,_

_Wendy._

* * *

End Notes: Sigh. I give up on trying to normalize either chapter length or number of diary entries per chapter. It just won't _be_ normalized. Just a pointless little remark from an author a little loopy on cold medicine. Yaay for NyQuil! :o)


	6. The Calm Before the Storm

Chapter 6

_-------------------------------------------------------------------------------_

_March 28, 2001 – Wednesday_

_Dear Diary,_

_Today was the day we woke up early (far too early, in my humble little opinion, not to imply that I'm _bitter_ about it or some such silliness), piled into the helicopter with Benny who finally stumbled in from his little Benny-world sometime close to two-thirty in the morning (which resulting lack of sleep makes me a little nervous about putting my life in his hands), and flew back to London._

_Mercifully, I managed to fall asleep very early on into the trip – the effect, no doubt, of having slept hardly at all last night for fear of snuggling up to Drake while in a state of unconsciousness, and waking up in the hotel swimming pool – and I stayed asleep for two blissful hours._

_Of course, all good things must come to an end, curiously enough much sooner than the _bad_ things, and my nap was no exception, being cut short at this point by a gentle kick in the knee from Nancy and a not-so-gentle elbow in the side of the head from Drake, both of whom told me, looking rather red, that I had been talking in my sleep and they thought I'd like to know._

_Again, all I can do is shake my head at the oddness of these people. Why would they be getting so uptight about someone sleeping? I wonder – oh dear! I'll bet I was saying the same sort of things I sometimes do out loud when I'm writing about Mr. Joker and the ink starts to run! _

_Groan. Now I'll blush uncontrollably the next time I see any of them. Even Yomiko, who seemed far too engrossed in the novel Miss Scully gave her to be either watching or listening._

_And now all I can do is shake my head at my own incredible lack of restraint when asleep._

_First and foremost, because I don't have the energy to do much more.__ So sleepy…_

_Maybe I'll wake myself up by going and reorganizing my bookshelf again. This time, I'll put all forty-three of the books I own in order according to size and colour! Just for a little variation, you know, add a bit of interest to my life._

_I honestly need a hobby._

_Or a pet._

_Unfortunately, there shall be no time in the near future to look for either._

_Yes, dear diary, we are back off to the Library again bright and early tomorrow (which is no different for me; I simply usually _stay_ there for more than the few minutes it takes to get the helicopter prepared), where we shall be assigned yet another painfully silly and degrading trainer mission. _

_I wonder what bizarre location _this_ one will see us flying off to with our Elvis-singing little chum Benny who will not live through many more of these if I have anything to say about it. _

_Luckily, I don't._

_And I wonder what sort of dangerous or simply humiliating nutcase we'll be coming face-to-face with this time, and which obscure and strange text we'll be forced to retrieve from this dangerous or humiliating nutcase._

_And now, I believe I shall toddle off to reorganize my bookshelf in my special new way I'm dying to try._

_After all, I need something to keep me awake, as it is currently seven o' clock in the evening._

_Stupid four-thirty in the morning start._

_Grr__…_

_Your faithful servant,_

_Wendy._

_

* * *

_

_March 29, 2001 – Thursday_

_Dear Diary,_

_What a day! What an exhausting, bizarre, utterly infuriating, yet oddly fulfilling day! _

_First of all, I should probably explain why there was no harrowing helicopter ride to live through._

_You see, our mission (or missions, rather, which I will explain like the good little stickler for detail that I am) was in London, and of course, it would be silly to waste a day buzzing about in a helicopter, only to end just where you began._

_I was thrilled to find that we were remaining in London, naturally, as I rather like going at home to my own comfy little bed to sleep at nights._

_Drake seemed less thrilled._

_He grumbled constantly about the rain, even though it wasn't raining at all, aside from a little drizzle in the morning. I told Drake he was a bigger bloody wimp than he insisted I was, if he couldn't handle a little rain. He glared at me and told me that he had nothing against a _little _rain, but he _did_ have a problem with a damn deluge._

_I don't know what he means. There were only a few neighbourhoods that experienced flooding._

_Oh, very well; there weren't. I thought it would be amusing to the future generations who pass a rainy Sunday afternoon reading this. God help them, they need a hobby even more desperately than I do! Or they _will_, rather._

_Drake's other problem was that "all these British people creep him out."_

_One, he hastened to add with a sound strangely like a laugh in his voice when I glared at him with all the wrath I could muster, was cute; thousands were simply scary._

_One might wonder how, if Drake feels this way, he ended up working for the Royal British Library Division of Special Operations (the first and last time this Diary will _ever_ see it written out in full; I get more than enough of repeatedly writing or typing _that_ hand-cramping little title at work). _

_However, there would probably be very little point in asking._

_Questions like that don't tend to have answers that don't induce severe headaches._

_At any rate, we all arrived at the Library this morning, with our luggage since no one bothered to tell us otherwise, to find Mr. Joker waiting for us._

_  
Now, do not misunderstand. There was nothing strange in this, as when Mr. Joker calls someone in, he tends to wait for them instead of buggering off for a mid-morning pint._

_The strange part was the huge, expectant grin on his face, and the fact that he was waiting for us outside by his car._

_Drake demanded forebodingly what was going on, the foreboding effect of which was apparently lost on or ignored by Mr. Joker._

_He replied very coolly and calmly, although with that huge smile that would have been very creepy if it hadn't been so utterly cute, that things would be done a little differently today._

_Now, here I would like to take a moment to address what is quite a mystery to me._

_When Mr. Joker said this, Yomiko, Nancy, Drake and I all reacted with similar amounts of dismay and distrust._

_The puzzling part is that, judging from the past few days, none of us particularly liked the way things were being done. Thus, I do not understand why on earth I along with everyone else reacted so strongly and negatively to the idea of its changing._

_I can only assume that we've all had it effectively and firmly ingrained in us by now that no matter how aggravating, inefficient, and altogether unpleasant our circumstances are, they can always get worse._

_And when something _can_ get worse, naturally, it _will_ get worse. Promptly._

_This bit of universal truth failed to come true for me when Mr. Joker announced that one major difference would be that he would be joining us. I was quite thrilled by this, and looking forward to listening to him talk throughout the helicopter ride with wide, adoring eyes and no idea what he was saying._

_When he told us that the next difference was that we were to be staying in London, I was even more thrilled because, as I've said, I have no particular aversion to spending time in my own home._

_When he told us that these changes would be made because he thought that what he'd been giving us was a little much for us (read: for me) to handle, I began to get a faint inkling of exactly how this could be worse than what we were doing._

_When he told us that we would be driving around the city, collecting every overdue book on The List, I think I must have grimaced horribly, because this one old janitor who has always scared me horribly, called out as he passed on his way into the building that I shouldn't scrunch up a pretty face like that._

_I was sorely tempted to return that I would 'scrunch up' _his_ not-so-pretty face if he didn't mind his own bloody business and leave people alone who clearly wanted to be._

_However, Mr. Joker saved me from making an enemy in the old man by hastily suggesting that we be off, then._

_And so, we all piled into his car as he indicated._

_Imagine my surprise when, just as I began to climb into the back seat (and in the middle, squished between Yomiko and Drake who had apparently decided that elbow room is his privilege alone, thank-you-very-much), Mr. Joker caught my arm in a place that I'm not going to ever wash again until I take a shower tonight, and told me that he wanted me to drive._

_I think I gaped rather rudely at that, because Phyllis, who happened past at _that_ point called out and asked if I was trying to catch flies, and she thought I'd given away the pet frog._

_I wanted very badly to call back to­ _her_ that I'd dissected my pet frog long ago and used the bits in the Christmas fudge I'd given everyone around the Library for Christmas last year, but there were several other people around, and I didn't want to thoroughly disgust _all_ of them, because that would create the necessity of coming up with ideas for Christmas presents for lots of people, that are _not_ edible. _

_Sigh. If my dear, darling brother Michael were to read this, he would no doubt ask with this feigned innocence, "Gee, Sis, do you mean the fudge _was_ edible? That's sure news to me! I tasted mine, and then set it to use as a paperweight!"_

_Have I mentioned that I love my brother dearly? _

_Particularly when he's screaming in pain?_

_Preferably pain that is being inflicted by me?_

_At any rate, I think I'll get back on track sufficiently to relate that yes, I ended up driving Mr. Joker's very expensive car all over the city today, regardless of the fact that I'm not on his insurance at all, and thus would have created an extremely bad situation if I had gotten into a minor accidenta and put a dent in the front, or side-swiped a fence, or crashed it flaming into a building or something._

_Very bad, very careless planning, I thought._

_Still, I have to say, it was a brilliant experience to drive a car that doesn't make noises that sound distinctly like profanity when you go over a bump the wrong way._

_And it was an even more brilliant experience to find out that Mr. Joker trusts me enough to let me drive his car._

_Apparently, he heard from someone that I make up for my lack of grace on foot when I get behind the wheel of a car._

_I don't know what fool told him this. _

_I have two settings when I drive: panic, and full-out road-rage. There is no in-between. I am either whimpering in fear or bellowing in anger._

_Or, when Mr. Joker is instructing me on exactly where to turn in between bits of conversation with Yomiko, Nancy, and Drake, sighing in shiny-eyes delight._

_I'm honestly pathetic._

_But I'm happy, so let all who judge hang it out their ear._

_Hang _what_ exactly out their ear, I would be hard-pressed to tell you, but let them hang _something_ out their ear!_

_Eventually, we arrived at the first location, and when we pulled up in front of a nice, if rather small white house with a row of small fir trees in the front yard, Drake and Joker both double-checked the address, each sure that the other must have gotten it wrong._

_Men._

_Still, both were completely justified in wondering at the appearance of the place. Such a neatly-kept, demure, dainty little house when the first book we were to collect was a collection of 18th century French pornography! _

_We were about to turn around and see if we had turned at the wrong street, when Nancy suggested that maybe we should go up to the door and ask the people living here if there was another house whose mail they commonly got due to very similar addresses._

_Mr. Joker seemed to think this idea was a good one, and so the five of us made our way up to the door._

_I have to wonder exactly how I would feel if I was hanging about my home, minding my own business, perhaps enjoying a nice cup of tea (or better yet, a can of soda!) and maybe a warm bubble bath, and all of a sudden, five people came tromping up to my door. I can't say for certain, as I get sadly few visitors in groups of any number, but I am quite confident in saying that I believe it would unnerve me. _

_Yes, we made a reasonably intimidating sight. Except for Yomiko, who looked as adorable and unassuming as always, nose buried in her book, glasses sliding down every now and again._

_What, me? Well of course _I _looked scary! Could there be any question?_

_And Drake didn't help us to look any less intimidating, either, with the way he was menacingly wielding his umbrella._

_I don't know how he manages to make an umbrella look scary, but I must say, _I _was very nearly frightened._

_Sigh. I seem to be getting off-track again. _

_Well, we reached the door, at any rate, and knocked. Riveting, isn't it?_

_A middle-aged lady answered, fairly plump and very pretty, with her long, thick brown hair in a braid down her back. Still wearing a housecoat and bedroom slippers._

_I would shake my head in disapproval at just how long it takes some people to get dressed in the morning, if I wasn't so utterly envious of this lady, still in pyjamas at nine-thirty in the morning. What bliss to get such a late start on the day! Sigh…_

_She told us there was no house around with an address close to hers, and asked exactly who we were looking for._

_Mr. Joker told her it was a household of Steeves that we were looking for, and she frowned and told us that yes, she was Mrs. Steeves, and then asked exactly what we needed._

_She looked very confused when Yomiko this time told her that we were looking for an overdue library book, and asked why on earth our library didn't just call people with overdues like everyone else._

_Nancy looked as though she thought this was a very good point, and I must say, I agreed. Drake simply looked annoyed that he didn't come up with it first. Yomiko looked aghast at the idea of failing to take a more hands-on approach to safely recovering our precious tomes of wisdom._

_Her wording, not mine.__ I would never call French pornography a 'tome of wisdom'. Perhaps, if I had been born a man…eugh. What a horrifying thought._

_I suppose I really have nothing against men, but my having been born one would throw a bit of a wrench in my notable…er, fixation with my boss. _

_At any rate, as soon as Mr. Drake mentioned the name of the book, Mrs. Steeves acquired this sort of grim, understanding expression, and disappeared from the door._

_I mean, of course, that she walked away very quickly, not that she vanished suddenly._

_She returned a moment later with a middle-aged man in tow, and told us that the book must have been loaned out to her husband, and that we should ask _him_ what had happened to it._

_He protested that he knew nothing of it, but at the time I didn't believe him._

_He seemed the French porn type._

_A man, that is._

_Still, he continued to protest that he hadn't borrowed the book, even as Mr. Joker explained what the overdue fine would be._

_At this point, a boy of around fifteen or sixteen, clad in flannel pyjamas, slogged to the door, wiped his nose with a pitiful sniffle, and asked what all the noise was – it was making his head ache and keeping him awake._

_When he saw us, he asked with a frown what was going on, and his mother explained that all these nice people from some library or another (really, some people ought to learn to _listen_) were here to collect an overdue book of pornography that_ someone _in the house (punctuated by a vicious glare at her husband) had borrowed._

_Honestly, I've never seen someone's expression go from grumpy, sleepy, and sick to utterly terrified so quickly._

_He tried to bolt – right out the front door, proving himself to be at exactly the same intelligence level of the people we've dealt with on all these missions._

_Terror of his mother, expression gradually growing more and more suspicious, must have lent him strength, because he plowed through Yomiko, Nancy, Drake, and Mr. Joker without a problem._

_I don't suppose any of the four, or Mr. or Mrs. Steeves, were terribly impressed when, after they started yelling "Grab him, Wendy! Grab him!" (minus Mr. and Mrs. Steeves, who didn't know my name), I stepped back to clear a path for the boy._

_On instinct, purely._

_Being a scary former rugby star is one thing; being rude is quite another, and my subconscious mustn't have wanted to do that._

_Still, as it turned out, it didn't matter._

_As I stepped back, I caught my foot on the flat stones bordering the walk up to the house. Then I started flailing, rather wildly, and shouting some not-so-nice words._

_I shouted even more not-so-nice words as the boy tripped over my foot (or, if you're really picky on matters of detail, as I kicked him in the groin), and somehow contrived to fall sideways onto me._

_If I didn't know how desperate he was to escape the combined wrath of an angry mother, an angry Yomiko, and an angry Drake, I would have said he did _that_ on purpose._

_And I must say, he may have been just a scrawny adolescent male, but he was a very _heavy_ scrawny adolescent male!_

_Still, I didn't have long to think about it, since someone that I had thought was Drake grabbed him by his hair and hauled him off me._

_Then I climbed to my feet and saw Mrs. Steeves shaking him, again by the hair, and demanding to know how he had managed to loan pornography from this library, and what he had done with it._

_By this point, he was close to tears, which seems a little weak for a man until one remembers that it bloody well _hurts_ to be shaken around by the hair, particularly by one's mother, who is angry because they have just found out that their underage offspring is indulging in the reading of pornography._

_Not that I would _know_ this; I don't have first-hand experience. I'm only guessing. Honestly!_

_At any rate, the poor boy (Peter, I believe) ran downstairs, his exhausted slog all but evaporated, to retrieve the book, while Mr. Steeves doled out the late fee, grumbling about how that damned boy would pay back every penny, along with an ugly interest rate._

_And so, the first mission of the day over with, we all piled back into the car._

_Here, Mr. Joker beamed at me and told me he was certain my talent would come in handy._

_I'm sure I was staring at him as blankly as Drake, Nancy, and Yomiko (who, yes, was reading the book we had retrieved), as I asked exactly what he meant._

_He replied that my propensity for lucky disaster had kicked in at just the necessary moment to enable us to nab the boy without a lot of trouble and searching of the neighbourhood. _

_Here, Drake interjected that the damn kid was lucky he was tired today; otherwise, he'd have been up off the ground and shoving his fist down the boy's throat in a shot._

_I asked if that wouldn't have been a little unpleasant for him, too, having his fist down someone's throat, and he told me, predictably, to shut up. And to stop my damn scribbling again, which I wasn't doing._

_I think it's become a knee-jerk reaction around me._

_Our next mission was just as silly._

_Long story made short, it involved retrieving a volume on ancient Druidic lore (which seems as dubious to me as to anyone else) from a group of four teenage girls who wanted to establish a coven and were interested in following the Druidic life path._

_Or something.__ I can't make out what the girl was driving at._

_That same girl, the self-proclaimed leader of the coven (even if I'll wager her friends disagreed on this point), apologized rather grudgingly, and even more grudgingly paid the overdue fine (which I suspect came straight out of Mum's pocket). Still, she very much gave the sense that she felt we ought to be apologizing to_ her

_She had set it aside, she explained with an accusing glare, because most of the things it said were far too ugly to be incorporated into their own personal system. Of course, that meant that her utterly forgetting the book was in her room was not her fault._

_Apparently, being a witch means that you not only get to have a cut-and-clip belief system, including any bits from other systems you find prettiest and excluding any bits you find ugly or inconvenient, but that you also get to ignore all conventions of manners, and that nothing you do is your fault. Not what _I've_ heard about it, but I suppose the fifteen-year old with eight pounds of eye liner and a pink tee shirt with a glittery pentacle on the front would know better than the bloody_ experts_ I've talked to._

_Honestly, I am now seriously considering changing my name to Persephone Starclear Moongazer and starting a coven. I like the idea of a system that lets me do any nasty thing I like because "those so-called 'morals' are constructions of other systems, and the Goddess encompasses both good and evil."_

_I expressed as much to our little friend (Tasha, I believe, although she insisted upon being called Isis)._

_Unfortunately, she took me seriously and informed me with a scornful roll of her eyes that I was way too much of a conformist to be a Wiccan; she could _tell.

_However, she seemed quite anxious to get Nancy to be the fourth member of her coven. She was thinking of kicking Thea out, she told us, because she wouldn't dye her hair black or blue or purple or blood-red or ANYTHING, and she didn't have a pentacle. Then she told me kindly that I could join if I would consider a slight change in hair style and colour._

_Oww__…my poor ignored little sarcasm hurts. _

_On the way back to the car, I asked Mr. Joker how all these children kept being loaned these old, important, and very expensive texts. I don't think he knew why himself, because he changed the subject very quickly and skillfully, and before I knew it, I was explaining why both Nancy and I were wearing ankhs. _

_Nancy__ very pointedly threw out all the pamphlets Isis/Tasha gave her, and announced that she had no intention of calling that little flake again. _

_Nancy__'s words, not mine, although I wish I had thought of them._

_Yomiko__ objected, horrified, that she had to call the girl back; it would be really mean to just let her wait by the phone. And anyway, she added decidedly, Nancy couldn't just keep that necklace if she wasn't going to call._

_At this point, Nancy asked if I wanted to come with her in the dead of night some time to slip the things into the girl's mailbox and run away. Mr. Joker suggested we include some books on witchcraft as conceived by the important names in the subject._

_The rest of the day is barely worth mentioning, and certainly not in any detail, although a few of the book-nappers tried to run and Yomiko had to catch them in a giant paper spider web, which attracted a lot of awe from passers-by. It attracted much less attention when I managed to accidentally detain two others by tripping over things and landing on them._

_That aside, Drake wanted us to know that it is "not his lucky day"._

_Am__ by now fairly certain that whatever deity promised that Drake would have a lucky day sometime was simply toying with him._

_We hunted down three multi-volume sets on the history of various parts of the world, five books on military strategy (thankfully only one of which ended up having been loaned through unknown means to a teenage boy who planned to avoid everyone else's mistakes and do world domination _right­_), and we've a legendary cookbook to start searching for tomorrow._

_Mr. Joker won't be coming with us, as he has gotten over his cabin fever as soon as he realized exactly why everyone grumbles when they're being sent out on trainer missions._

_He didn't _say_ that, of course; he claimed that he thought my training was coming along nicely and that Yomiko, Nancy, and Drake could handle it from here on out (poor things), but we all know the truth._

_I'm going to ask him (the next time I actually get to do my _real_ job and stay in the Library for more than ten seconds – goodness, I never thought I'd herald _that_ day with such joy!) if he still thinks that the people who spend all day, every day, at overdue collection are the ones who have it the easiest and just don't know how lucky they are._

_I fully anticipate being either very Frowned At, which must be capitalized to express just how Frowned At I shall be, or being promptly be sent off to fetch tea._

_And with that, dear diary, I shall be off to reorganize my bookshelf in my Special New Way._

_I had planned to do it last night, but before I could begin, Mr. Joker rang me up, and I was certainly not going to tell him I was too busy reorganizing a bookshelf or doing anything else to talk! _

_He was curious over a note Mr. Mulder had sent him, tucked into the paperback Miss Scully had lent Yomiko. _

_I hope Mr. Mulder dies a horrible death. Or at least, that he never gets his dry cleaning back._

_The note was a letter of congratulations on Mr. Joker's inevitable marriage to his cute little secretary._

_I finally convinced him that I hadn't told Mr. Mulder anything of the sort, the process of which was no more traumatic than one might expect._

_This didn't take so very long, since Mr. Joker is very reasonable (for a man), but after it, I happened to off-handedly mention the date I didn't actually have in Yellowknife, and Mr. Joker seemed quite interested, and wanted to know if "those awful lumberjacks they have up there" know how to treat a girl._

_I think he might have been a little miffed._

_Giggle-giggle-blush-blush._

_Right, then! Off to the bookshelf!_

_Your faithful servant,_

_Wendy._

* * *

End Notes: Geez...what's there to say this time? Well, it was funny to me. :o)

Anyway, questions? Comments? Concerns? Outraged tirades? Any are more than welcome! :o)


	7. When a Simple Task Goes Bad

Chapter 7

_--------------------------------------------------------------_

_March 30, 2001 – Friday_

_Dear Diary, _

_Sometimes Fate smiles down upon the unlucky, after all._

_Sometimes a small shred of good luck finds its way into all the bad that seems to pelt you from all sides._

_In short, sometimes the world doesn't maliciously bite you in the arse every time you look at it funny._

_You see, for our next mission, we are required to meet with a few people in Paris! Joy! Rapture!_

_Florida was good, staying home was better, but Paris is utterly fantastic! Of course it isn't very far, but I, the utterly "untravelled" little creature that I am, have never been. It's one of those things that I never really thought of doing – I'm not much of a traveler, and tend to complain and whine until I get home again, believe it or not – but as soon as it was mentioned, it seemed like a wonderful idea, and has continued to seem more and more wonderful, until I have worked myself into quite a state of rapture over it._

_Yes, I am very aware that this sort of thing invariably leads to disappointment. _

_We are all currently in the helicopter, on our way there, and thus I am being very careful to keep my giddy joy to myself, as both Nancy and Drake took it very coolly, and Yomiko said that if they had books there, it was okay with her, she guessed._

_I don't want to seem some silly amateur by getting so excited over traveling somewhere, for the purposes of a mission, that I have always wanted to see (even if it will be very quickly, while in pursuit of a book-napping madman)._

_I have plenty of other ways to seem some silly amateur._

_Oh, glorious, happy, joyous day! I can't even bring myself to mind Benny's Greatest of Elvis marathon today! I might even start singing along!_

_  
Drake, however, will not, or so I suspect. Nancy likewise seems to be quite well able to bring herself to mind the marathon, and so does Yomiko, which came as no small shock._

_I can quite honestly claim that I have seen Yomiko Readman threaten someone's life now! _

_Of course, no one will believe me without a video tape. And not only this, I am fairly certain that if she had followed through and hurled Benny from the helicopter, she would have regretted it and caught him at the last minute with that book she's reading._

_  
Yomiko is so sweet._

_Rest assured, I would not change my mind and save Benny's life with my superpower._

_Not that it _could_ do anything so useful as that, but rest assured, if it could, I would not klutz Benny back to safety after throwing him out of a helicopter._

_Except today, when I am possessed of a great love of everyone and everything on the planet, because I get to see a glimpse of Paris on our way through it very quickly!_

_Drake is currently glaring at me. _

_I must be writing too exuberantly, so I shall tuck this dear volume of my innermost thoughts and feelings away in my bag…after a little bit of rambling to prolong the process of doing so and thus to annoy Drake just that little bit more._

_Oh, very well; so my giddy joy hasn't turned me into any nicer a person._

_----------------------------------------------------------------_

_It is now an hour later, and following another threat to hurl my diary from the window, Yomiko again surprised us all by looking up suddenly from her book and asking why Drake hated diaries so much anyway._

_Drake sighed, looking frightfully solemn and just a wee bit melodramatic, and motioned for us to gather around (which we had been anyway, as there is not much room to spread out in the back of a helicopter). _

_He told us it was a tale of woe, going back many ages._

_Nancy and Yomiko looked at each other skeptically, although Yomiko made more of an effort to be _nice_ about it._

_"Really," Nancy said rather flatly._

_Drake glared, then crossed his arms and pouted, and then admitted that fine, it was a tale of weirdness and vague stupidity going back about twenty-six years._

_Apparently, it all began with a diary of his own from his childhood._

_  
He was given it one Christmas by an eccentric elderly aunt (a damn psycho old woman, to use his slightly blunter wording), who apparently was in as much ignorance as I previously was of the fact that "guys do _not_ keep diaries."_

_It was a lovely book, bound in black leather, and clearly labeled as a diary by gold cursive lettering on the front._

_Of course, I've had to glean this description from the details that Drake gave men, and I may have imagined it to be slightly grander than it really was, but it is all in the interest of making the story more interesting, so I may be forgiven._

_At any rate, it must have been fairly nice, because two hours after tossing it carelessly into his closet and playing with his action figures again (which I giggled at until Drake glared at me and reminded me that he was seven at the time, and wasn't sitting cross-legged on the floor, playing with action figures as he is now) he went and rescued it, and began writing, although he still can't figure out what made him do it._

_He spent a good deal of time ranting about how dumb it was to keep a diary, and how only dumb _girls_ did it. So deeply engrossed was he in his ranting that it took him two pages to notice that the words were fading as soon as he wrote them._

_However, before he could react to this with too much shock or fear, he told us, new words began forming on the page, where his had been, and he didn't want to interrupt his diary by having a panic attack and thus risk missing something important._

_Such a sensible lad Drake was, even at seven years old!_

_He also didn't panic once he read what the diary had written, because he was too busy being annoyed._

_I can't say I blame him; I would be awfully annoyed, too, if my diary said, "Gripe, gripe, gripe. You're a bloody little whiner, you know that?"_

_Hint-hint._

_Please don't ever do that, alright, diary dear?_

_If you do, I'll throw you at Drake and laugh wickedly as he runs away screaming like a girl._

_Well, when Drake's diary called him a little whiner, he did not throw it at himself or at anyone else. Instead, being seven years old, he snatched up his pen and scribbled under the words, "Gripe, gripe, gripe. You're a bloody little whiner, you know that?"_

_Mimicry: marvel at the maturity._

_Apparently, it took the required effect of severely annoying the diary, which shot back some rather nasty things that I feel no need to repeat here, and that Drake mimicked back straightaway. _

_Then the diary sighed – or rather, it wrote "Sigh" – and told Drake that its name was Tom Something-or-Other Riddle, and asked how good Drake was with unscrambling scrambled words._

_Drake wrote back that he wasn't so good at it, and that he didn't like doing it, either, so he was going to play with his cars._

_He told us that as he closed the diary, a lot of very frantic words began forming on the page, commanding and then entreating him not to go._

_Nothing daunted, Drake shut the diary and began driving his toy cars around on the floor (which made me giggle again, which in turn earned me another glare)._

_Then, just as he had begun to stage a seven-car pile-up, complete with flipping and exploding vehicles and blood everywhere (men), he heard an odd sort of growl from his desk. Then he looked up, just in time to see the diary hopping off his desk and toward him, still growling, and baring rows of sharp teeth._

_Then he dropped his car crash and ran away screaming._

_Naturally, when he gasped out an account of what had just happened to his mother, he was not believed any more than one might expect. Parents never believe their children about the very _important_ things, do they? Your diary up and attacking, the gnome underneath your bed who was _really_ the one who pulled all of your toys out of your toy box, the fairies living out in the garden who were actually the ones that pinched your aggravating, rich little braggart of a cousin and made him cry even though he claims that it was you who did it…Perhaps there are good reasons that parents don't believe children about these stories._

_Apparently, Nancy doesn't believe these stories any more than the average parent does. She asked, biting back a laugh, if Drake was absolutely certain that the diary had attacked him. Maybe it had only wanted to play, and baring its teeth was a sign of that._

_  
From here, I couldn't resist the temptation to ask if he was certain the diary had had teeth at all, and if he was really sure it had been snapping at him; maybe the wind had just been blowing it open and shut?_

_By now apparently quite enjoying herself and this impromptu torment of Drake, Nancy took things one step further and asked if Drake was sure the diary had been moving at all; maybe it had just been sitting there and he needed help._

_Drake was about to reply angrily, when Yomiko added with adorably sweet seriousness that a book would never try to hurt someone that way._

_Benny called back at that point that he wasn't so sure; he'd gotten some nasty paper cuts in his life, after all._

_Yomiko__ replied, just a touch of impatience creeping into her voice, that maybe Benny simply didn't know how to treat a book._

_At this point, Drake pointedly continued his tale, his tone implying that he no longer cared if his audience was listening or not, because he was going on anyway. _

_Upon discovering the bitter truth that his mother would be no help to him, Drake made his way back to his bedroom, snatched up the diary with a pair of long, sturdy tongs, and carried it into the kitchen, where he proceeded to take a carving knife to it, much to the bewilderment of his father, who was in the process of preparing the Christmas turkey._

_As Mr. Anderson went to inform Mrs. Anderson that their son had lost his small mind at long last, the bits of diary scattered about the kitchen rallied and – Drake says – glared at him, before attacking. _

_I think someone left a window open, and when it stirred the bits of paper, Drake, the little monkey, went mad from terror. _

_Silly boy._

_Of course, no _girl_ would ever panic over something so silly._

_Either way, he may have lost his head, but he lost it to good purpose. He ran to the front hall closet, hauled out the vacuum cleaner and…well, I'm sure you can guess the rest. Little tiny bits of Tom Something, Evil Incarnate in the Form of a Diary, went shooting up into the vacuum hose, and all was sunshine again._

_Until, of course, Drake's aunt came in to find the cover of the very nice diary she had given him, mangled and torn, and the pages conspicuously missing._

_Then there was a scolding of epic proportions. _

_From his tone while telling of it, though, I hardly think Drake minded, and this would only make sense; after all, he had just escaped the clutches of a violent, psychopathic diary (one of the silliest phrases I've heard in a long while – right up there with the "legendary cookbook" we are on our way to seek). I certainly wouldn't have been miffed at being scolded about decimating my Christmas presents. I would have been thanking my lucky stars I was still alive._

_It would be horribly embarrassing to have on your tombstone, "Shuffled off this mortal coil at the hands – or pages, rather – of a diary."_

_And thus ends the tale of why Drake had a little hissy-fit every time I pulled out this little coil notebook confidante of mine._

_Speaking of Drake and his little hissy-fits, he is currently having one, and thus I shall find something else to do for the remainder of the trip. _

_------------------------------------------------------_

_Very curious._

_We have just met with one of the men that we were told would have information on Artemis G. Bone, the man who was loaned the legendary cookbook that makes such a very strange and silly phrase. _

_He gave his name as Agent Smith, and we nearly missed him on our first glance around! He apparently blends in very well. Of course, his plain black suit, sunglasses, and utterly nondescript face could help with that, considering that we were meeting him in a café that seems to be a big haunt among business men on business lunches, particularly over lunch hour, which is when we were there, being that the trip here took all of a few hours._

_Really, I don't understand why we're still using the helicopter instead of just bloody _driving_ or something. Actually, that isn't true; Nancy explained, after Drake disdained to reply to my burning question that I was really rather indifferent to, that it was because we might have to buzz merrily off to Somewhere Else on very short notice, and that Somewhere Else likely wouldn't be within driving distance._

_But back to our new friend, Agent Smith._

_The only distinguishing feature about him was the little transmitter in his ear._

_Apparently, he and Drake are old friends, because he basically ignored Nancy, Yomiko, and I (which may happen to me a lot, but doesn't happen so much to Yomiko, and_ definitely_ doesn't happen much to Nancy where men are concerned), and walked up to Drake._

_When he was less than five centimeters from the poor man, he sort of half-smiled and half-smirked, and said,_

_"It's good to see you again, Mr. Anderson."_

_Even more curious, that was when a high-energy techno music that you could just picture a very slow-motion battle scene being set to began to play._

_Then it stopped long enough for Drake to say,_

_"Uh, yeah."_

_"It's been a long time, hasn't it?"_

_Again, the music, sounding oddly like something that Enigma might have written, kicked in for a brief moment before falling silent in time to not interrupt Drake's reply of,_

_"Yeah; a long time."_

_"A pity, isn't it, that old friends must lose touch?"_

_Once again, the music had its moment to play merrily away._

_This time, Drake glared at the world in general and requested, not terribly politely, that they "knock it off, already."_

_The music fell silent, for good this time, and we all took our seats and ordered coffee and (in Drake's and my cases) something unnecessarily gooey and sugar-filled._

_Long story short, Agent Smith told us of (giggle) Mr. Bone's past history as a renowned pasty chef that we have all nevertheless managed to never, ever have heard of. _

_I asked exactly how this could be, and Agent Smith replied, adjusting his ear piece, that this confused him, too, but he assumed it was because the average person didn't exactly follow the culinary world. _

_I suppose this is a point, although you'd think a famous _anything_ with a name like Bone would become well-known to the general public just for the sheer novelty. _

_Yomiko__ asked, at this point, if Agent Smith knew exactly where Mr. Bone was to be found, and said that we should probably go to talk to him as soon as possible._

_After we all stared at her with expectant grins for a moment (even Agent Smith, who I think was only copying the rest of us), she said sheepishly that she had spotted a bookstore on our way from where we landed that she'd like to go take a look at._

_Nancy__ murmured something about the silliness of spending your free time in the widely-agreed-upon most romantic city on earth in a bookstore, and then wondered aloud why it _did _seem like such a romantic thing to do._

_Agent Smith looked a little floored at this, and at the mushy smiles our two ever-so-adorable-and-aggravating lovebirds proceeded to give one another before they remembered with a good deal of horrified embarrassment that he was there, but then he seemed to shake himself off and decide that it was high time to get back to Important Things._

_He told us grimly that finding Mr. Bone might not be as easy as we had hoped, as Mr. Bone was very anxious not to be found._

_Drake shrugged and said that the gym teacher had been anxious not to be found, but none of us had faced anything more difficult than teaching a gym class._

_Here, Nancy and Yomiko and I all hotly reminded him that while _he_ had the easy job of playing football, _we_ had nearly drowned in a snow bank._

_He said coolly that it wasn't _his_ fault that none of us knew how to walk._

_Nancy__ said that she would like to see _him_ try it with feet approximately three feet long and made out of wood._

_Agent Smith muttered that he would like to see that, too, but I don't think I was supposed to hear him, so I didn't laugh. _

_Then, just in time to head off a fight that I frankly would have liked to see develop (I would have put my bets on a victory for Nancy, by the way), Yomiko hastily asked Agent Smith why Mr. Bone would be so difficult to locate._

_Looking as relieved that we had finally found our way back to business as an utterly deadpan expression would allow, Agent Smith replied that they suspected (he didn't stop to explain who "they" were) that Mr. Bone was developing a nefarious plot, and that the book was somehow involved._

_Drake demanded grumpily why every nefarious plot nowadays seemed to involve a book. After all, he said, in the age of computers, they ought to involve the Internet or something._

_Nancy asked, with a raised eyebrow, if Drake had ever actually _been _on the Internet – she personally had seen plenty of nefarious plots involved therein. _

_Oh, alright, so she didn't say 'therein'. Let me have my poetic touches, would you please?_

_Yomiko__, once again forced into the role of the sensible one now that she had finished reading the book in her pocket, the one in her other pocket, the four in her coat, and the emergency back-up book that she thinks no one knows about, tucked into the holster at about her knee, asked Agent Smith if they knew anything about exactly what the plot was, or how the book was involved._

_Agent Smith replied a little snippily that he had been in the process of looking into that, but that he'd had to take time off to come and talk to us._

_I told him just as snippily that it certainly wouldn't have broken _my_ heart if he hadn't bothered, and Drake told me to just stop talking right now._

_  
Agent Smith just smiled, though – an admittedly rather scary smile – and said that he had, in fact, been sent to find us so that he could take us back to their headquarters, just so we would be informed immediately if they had found anything out._

_And thus, we are on our way there right now, in the back of a very nice car._

_At least, Nancy and Yomiko and I are in the back._

_Agent Smith, who is driving, is very luckily up front._

_Equally luckily, so is Drake, who is once again threatening my diary with certain being-thrown-through-the-air if I don't put it away very, very soon._

_Have just had a good deal of fun making it "growl" and "snap" at Drake._

_Nancy is snickering, Yomiko is looking horrified at the idea of a book being so mean, Drake is making a sound somewhere between an outraged bellow and a frightened whimper, and Agent Smith is looking quite as though he wished he had never seen any of these loonies from the British Library._

_I think we're a very nice group of loonies, personally._

_Quite the nicest loonies out there._

_Or at least, in this car, at the moment._

_----------------------------------------------------_

_Very curious, indeed._

_We arrived some time ago at Agent Smith's referred-to headquarters, and I am fairly certain that there is a bad movie in here somewhere._

_You see, everyone working here looks exactly like our new friend, down to the nondescript black suits, sunglasses, and ear-pieces. _

_Even their faces looked exactly alike._

_And they _all_ gave their name as Agent Smith!_

_As soon as we got inside, they all surrounded Drake, and each took their turn saying,_

_"Good day, Mr. Anderson."_

_Then they formed two rows on either side, with Drake and one of the Agent Smiths in the middle, advancing on each other in very slow motion, amid the rain that rather unexpectedly started up – indoors – to the sound of a very ominous choral piece in something that sounded vaguely like Sanskrit. _

_It's this sort of thing that makes me wish I had just gone into a normal career. Like that of a circus acrobat._

_Of course, in addition to the obvious problems of someone possessing supernatural klutziness being an acrobat, then I wouldn't have met Mr. Joker, unless he spends a lot of time with random circus acrobats, the mere idea of which makes me so angry that I would like to pick up the Agent Smith that just happened by and start randomly bludgeoning other Agent Smiths with him. _

_I don't know why the thought of Mr. Joker finding happiness with several circus acrobats makes me want to deal severe pain to Agent Smith, Agent Smith, Agent Smith, and so forth, but a woman scorned, even if it's only in her imagination, doesn't have to be rational if she doesn't want to! Humph!_

_At any rate, after the fight scene that didn't really ever develop, three of the Agent Smiths took us aside and told us that they hadn't found out very much about Mr. Bone's Nefarious Plot (which honestly sounds like a children's storybook with a lot of talking animals for main characters), but that they were in the process of tracking him._

_He had apparently last been seen in Japan, where he has given a seminar to a group of young aspiring chefs that we will be going to speak with._

_Oh, bother these nefarious quasi-villains who can't stay in one place for more than ten minutes!_

_Well, I suppose it's time to bid Agent Smith, Agent Smith, Agent Smith, and so forth a sad (hah!) farewell and load back into the helicopter._

_Ugh._

_I'm just not ready to face Benny again quite yet. And now I don't even have my giddy joy to protect me from the horror of Elvis!_

_But what must be done, must be done. _

_And I never even got to see anything worth mentioning of Paris! Only a café, a lot of men that looked exactly alike, and the inside of their secret (or possibly not-so-secret; I wouldn't know) headquarters!_

_Grumble._

_Your faithful servant,_

_Wendy._

_----------------------------------------------------------_

_March 31, 2001 – Saturday_

_Dear Diary,_

_I am in a considerably better mood this morning than I was yesterday, as following the revelation that we would be chasing off to Japan after Mr. Bone the Nefarious Chef, we were also told that they had no further information as to exactly _where_ in Japan he would be, and thus that they needed to do a wee bit more checking up before we went after him._

_Not only this, Agent Smith (one or another of them) added, but we would have to get in contact with the Library to let them know that this "simple trainer mission" had finally turned out to be something a lot more sinister._

_Oh, I do wonder if this means that Mr. Joker will order me home right away so that I don't accidentally make a mess of something important this time! _

_One can always hope._

_Just as one can always hope that his reasons for ordering me home might actually have something to do with concern for my safety along with concern for the success of the mission._

_Still, I was explaining why this delay has put me in a good mood._

_Well, it _is_ fairly obvious, I should say._

_We're all of us feeling a little more clear-headed._

_Drake got to go look for something nice for his daughter, Agent Smith got to get away from all these crazies for a while, and Nancy and Yomiko got to have their alone-time._

_Albeit, it was in a bookstore, but they seem to have enjoyed it quite a lot anyway, particularly Yomiko, who has managed to amass quite a stack of purchases._

_When I remarked that she would have something to read in the helicopter now, she replied sadly that no, she'd already read them. On the way from the hotel room, Nancy clarified._

_As for what _I_ did on our free time…_

_Hee-hee-hee_

_This time, when I tell Mr. Joker the story about the nice-looking young man I had a date with, it'll be true!_

_At least, a little more true. _

_It might not have been a _date_ as such – we just started talking (or rather, he started talking and I started nodding hazily while staring up at him in innocent admiration – innocent adoration is reserved only for Mr. Joker) at the bar in a nice little restaurant, where we both just happened to be – but we did spend the evening together, and it was surprisingly enjoyable, considering I couldn't understand half of what he said, thus proving that I didn't absorb nearly so much out of my years of taking French in school as I had prided myself on._

_Still, not understanding more than half of what my date said is not a new experience. It happened all the time in high school. This time it was simply the result of his speaking a different language, instead of his rambling on about hobbits, or Star Trek, or the new green tights and cap he was going to buy himself when he had the cash (yes, Peter was a strange boy). _

_And I must say, nearly as much fun as imagining Mr. Joker having a fairly strong reaction (even narrowing his eyes or something!) to my having a date (of sorts) was the young man (Claude, I think, although he could have simply been calling _me_ a _clod_ after I walked into the fourth door frame we came across) walking me back to the hotel and giving me a goodnight kiss under the watchful and curious eyes of the others, who had returned from their various rambles through Paris._

_Thankfully, no one asked any questions; I didn't exactly fancy the idea of explaining to them that I'd been basically embarking upon a childish quest to make my boss jealous._

_At any rate, we all had a nice night's sleep, even Yomiko and Nancy, once they got through…er, pillow-fighting._

_Thankfully, the room that was assigned to Drake and I had two beds, so I didn't need to worry about waking up in the hotel swimming pool after accidentally cuddling him in my sleep._

_And Benny was blessedly elsewhere, visiting old college friends (of his father's, of course, as he hasn't even reached college himself, I would wager), so the entire situation was a lot less irritating than it could have been._

_One has to look on the bright side, you know._

_------------------------------------------------------------_

_Well, this is, as the silly little colloquialism goes, a fine kettle of fish._

_We have just been contacted by Mr. Joker, who has been doing a little research on Artemis G. Bone since yesterday._

_After fifteen years of extensive schooling and training under some of the world's most celebrated chefs (do I sense some far-too- influential relatives in the man's family, I wonder?), he took his first steps toward independence in opening his own restaurant. _

_Some sort of fusion of several different styles of cuisine, all thrown together into a crock pot, and drunk through a straw – beyond that, no one could find out the particulars, for which I am rather grateful, as an appetite is a good thing to have every now and again, and I have a feeling that to hear the aforementioned particulars could have frightened it away for quite some time._

_Naturally, it was an utter failure, and the man was effectively shunned by the Wide World of Food._

_Equally naturally, instead of simply finding a new hobby, Mr. Bone decided that those who had criticized him were responsible, not only for his hurt little feelings, but for everything else that had ever gone wrong in his life._

_From here, it was a logical step (to him, at any rate) to attempt to kill each of the restaurant reviewers in an ironic and utterly silly manner._

_Thus was Mr. Bone sentenced to twenty years in prison for the attempted murder of several important New York journalists with a wooden spoon, a cheese grater, and a wide assortment of vegetables._

_I might have made up the vegetables; I've forgotten._

_After his prison sentence, which ended approximately ten years ago, he was given extensive therapy – ten years of it, at which time it was simply assumed that he was effectively cured (he _told _them so, after all), and was therefore released._

_Sigh._

_Fairly clearly, the doctors were wrong._

_Sigh again._

_Nancy asked Mr. Joker if I should be sent home in case the situation became dangerous and, I added, before I broke something important._

_Mr. Joker replied that this would not be necessary just yet – we would play it by ear._

_I loathe those who speak in metaphor._

_At least, when they're using metaphor to tell me things I don't particularly want to hear._

_Also, we have just been informed by Agent Smith (which Agent Smith _this_ one is, is anybody's guess) that we shall be accompanied on the remainder of this mission by a colleague of his._

_This colleague, as we found out when we met him for the first time this morning as he climbed into the helicopter and proceeded to nearly squish me into the wall by taking up much more of the seat than he could have possibly needed to, is known as Agent Rock._

_When Agent Smith told us this, he, Agent Rock, muttered that that sounded stupid, and that in his last career, he got to just be "The Rock". _

_Yomiko__ shot him a look of wide-eyed sympathy, and confessed that she missed the days when she was allowed to be known as simply "The Paper". _

_At this point, I felt it my civic duty to speak up and inform everyone that if the next person to join the team was "The Scissors", I was going home._

_However, as Agent Smith informed me in complete seriousness before promptly leaving, Agent Scissors would not be joining us, because he is on vacation this week._

_Bother._

_I had hoped that I would have an excuse to turn and head for home handed to me, but sadly, it was not to be. That's the second one that's fallen through in the last ten minutes!_

_Nancy__ asked at this point exactly what Agent Rock's superpower was._

_He looked at her rather oddly for a moment, and she asked, surprised, if he didn't have one._

_He sort of grinned and told her that sure, he did. His "superpower", he said, was to lay the "smack down" on people, and refer to himself in the third person as he did so._

_Goodness! I may be still nursing my bruised ego over having the superpower of klutzing to death all those who would harm me, but at least mine isn't so…strange. Honestly, anyone could go around smacking people, if they really wanted to. It doesn't seem like much of a superpower to me. Perhaps it's simply that he is able to get away with it that is remarkable?_

_As for referring to himself in the third person, no comment._

_Aside from that one._

_However, Drake apparently saw nothing at all lacking in this description, as his eyes grew immediately shiny and adoring (which was so utterly cute that I almost gave the idea of falling madly in love with him some new consideration), and he asked if Agent Rock had, at one time, been a professional wrestler, because he _thought_ he'd looked kind of familiar._

_I think Drake is mistaken – he must have seen Agent Rock in that movie, "The Scorpion King". At least, I'm fairly sure that was him. It looks awfully like him, at any rate._

_Apparently, we were both mistaken, because Agent Rock acquired this very nervous expression and said that of course he had never been a professional wrestler – and he even made it a point to read my mind and tell us all that he had also never starred in "The Scorpion King", _or_ "The Mummy Returns", or any other movie with scorpions or mummies, or even daddies in it – and to shut up about it before we all got banned._

_I wish I knew what _that_ was supposed to mean._

_Ah, well, I've given up trying to decipher the meaningless ramblings of this fine group I'm traveling with. _

_I believe I'll drift blissfully back into my daydreams of Mr. Joker again._

_Happy sigh…_

_Have just been given quite a rude awakening by Agent Rock, who has informed me that I was beginning to blush and drool a little, and asked with a coarse and rather unnecessarily loud laugh, who the lucky guy was._

_Nancy, Drake, Benny, and Yomiko are all pretending not to have heard, looking slightly green._

_At least, Nancy and Drake and Benny are. _

_Yomiko__ managed to make a quick trip into a bookstore on the way while Drake stopped to throw out a gum wrapper, so she probably actually didn't hear. _

_Yes, she's now fully stocked for the ride to Tokyo._

_Or at least, for the first twenty minutes of it._

_After all, she only managed to buy fifteen books before Drake called to her to hurry it up in there._

_And one of the books was a Tom Clancy novel that she said, wrinkling her nose, she must've grabbed by accident. At least, she has just added, she can use the paper._

_Agent Rock, who apparently knows nothing of this group, has just asked, looking a wee bit nauseous, what she plans to use the paper for, and has advised that she carry a roll of toilet tissue with her in her purse from now on, just in case._

_And this has brought all conversation to a screeching halt, as no one seems to be in a hurry to dignify this with an answer, or even with an explanation. _

_Currently far too quiet within this helicopter that we like to call…well, a helicopter. _

_Benny has, of course, just decided to break the silence with his rendition of "Fly Me to the Moon"._

_I pointed out stonily that that wasn't Elvis, at which point Benny gave us all a scare by turning around, and thus away from the controls, giving me a strange look, and saying that he knew that of course, but so what? What did Elvis have to do with anything?_

_Drake pointed out a little edgily that we'd all be as dead as Elvis if Benny didn't watch the damn controls, and Agent Rock protested hotly that Elvis was _not_ dead – he'd seen him in a pita just the other day! _

_Nancy pointed out that if Elvis had been in Agent Rock's pita, which Agent Rock had then eaten, he was probably dead now, one way or the other._

_I really wish my mind worked as quickly as Nancy's. It would make the construction of smart-arse comments so much easier._

_Which might get me a lot more beaten up.__ Of course Nancy can handle it, but unless I trip and land on the person trying, I cannot. _

_Thus, perhaps it is best that I remain the dim but cute little thing I currently am._

_At least, until I have a good, compelling reason to change._

_------------------------------------------------------_

_Am now in a nice little hotel room in Tokyo, which seems all the nicer that I am sharing it with neither Benny nor Drake, who are sharing a different room._

_It is much later: 11:56 p.m. if one believes my watch, which is a bad thing to do, taking into account the difference in time zones. _

_We are basically only here to drop off everything that needs to be dropped off, before we pile into a rental car and race off to interview some of the group of young people that Mr. Bone gave his seminar to, as well as some of the faculty of the school through which the seminar was held._

_If they hired him to influence the impressionable minds of people who probably aren't that much younger than me now that I think about it, either they didn't know about his time in prison (which seems a little unlikely, unless they're simply exceptionally sloppy), or they consider him such a visionary that they didn't care (which seems incredibly unlikely, unless they're exceptionally stupid)._

_Either that, or it's a plot involving the university, to indoctrinate those students to be his little ladle-wielding minions! _

_Hmm…I think I might be a little over-tired. This honestly seems plausible right now._

_-------------------------------------------------------_

_It is now three minutes later, and I am cursing the tendency of the universe to point and laugh maliciously at me._

_You see, although I shall not be sharing a room with Benny or with Drake, I will be sharing one with Agent Rock._

_Grumble._

_Ah, well. Agent Rock has just told me that Drake is waiting downstairs for all of us, and I can imagine that he'll start leaning on the horn if we don't hurry._

_Oh, very well. To be fair, he'll probably do nothing of the sort. I'm simply in a rather jaundiced frame of mind at the moment._

_And on that note, dear diary, farewell until we can get back here, get some proper _sleep_, and I can once again think coherently._

_Your faithful servant,_

_Wendy._

-------------------------------------------

End Notes: Yeesh. That was a little longer than it needed to be.

AND it was a filler chapter! With a cameo! And a silly flashback! I apologize endlessly particularly for that, and I do hope I shall be forgiven, as the Plot is once again rearing its ugly head, and it is looking to be fairly cameo-and-flashback-free. :o)


	8. And It Gets Worse

Chapter 8

_-------------------------------------------------------------------------_

_April 1, 2001 – Sunday (in _my_ time-zone, at any rate)_

_Dear Diary,_

_Strange.__ Very strange. Just as we reached the car, Agent Rock told us he would check up on a few things elsewhere, and would meet back up later._

_After a quick consultation with Joker, Drake said coolly that it was fine, he didn't really care anyway, and good luck and all that._

_I'm sure Drake, Nancy, Yomiko, and Joker all think he's got some sort of scheme of his own, but honestly, I think he's just going for a drink._

_It'll do him good. Poor man seems a bit high-strung._

_At any rate, the rest of us piled into the car, and Mr. Joker explained something that might just clinch the seriousness and possible danger of this mission._

_Well, the danger. I would hardly call what he has found out "serious"._

_Apparently, he has done some checking up on exactly what the Legendary Cookbook of Yore and Slight Absurdity contained. He didn't know, you see, as he had not previously read it. Personally, I think he could have spared himself some trouble by asking Yomiko, because I'd wager she has._

_One of the recipes in the book was a certain complex and extremely difficult one for a pastry so fantastic that it defies laws of logic and physics, and will inevitably pull the entire universe into a black hole of sheer deliciousness._

_Yes, I know._

_I realize exactly how it sounds, and I am currently biting the inside of my cheek to shreds to keep from laughing._

_I don't know what the funniest part is: Mr. Bone's idiotic scheme, or Mr. Joker's utter seriousness in telling us of it. "A black hole of sheer deliciousness", indeed._

_And this, as Nancy said, dropping her head to her hand in despair, is where it gets ugly._

_Drake asked in an irritated mutter if the word she was looking for wasn't perhaps "stupid" instead of "ugly"._

_I would be more inclined to agree with Drake, although ugliness and stupidity are not mutually exclusive. Why, just consider my brothers! They're both ugly enough to crack plaster, and their IQs couldn't be any lower without their being clinically dead! _

_Yes, I hold a grudge. What of it? You might hold a grudge, too, if your brothers routinely tossed you out your bedroom window – on the second storey of the house – after you'd done some miniscule thing like scribbling "I Am a Cute Little Bunny" on their foreheads in non-washable marker._

_Well, honestly, people have been saying that all three of us Earhart kids have bunny-rabbit faces for years! Why on earth would they get mad at me for helping them point it out before anyone could bring it up?_

_So, Mr. Bone's nefarious plot _does_ involve the book, and this _does_ stand to be a more difficult mission than one would expect, considering the fact that we're dealing with a chef._

_Have just asked Mr. Joker hopefully if he's sure he doesn't want me to leave right now, before I break something important._

_Mr. Joker has just laughed and said no, but that he's going to work with me on this apparent confidence issue when we all return again._

_Bugger._

_I don't _have _a confidence issue; I just want to go home!_

_-------------------------------------------_

_Well, it has finally, finally happened: Mr. Joker has returned to his senses, and I am to be sent home directly, just as soon as a flight can be arranged._

_Somehow, I'm not so giddily joyful as I had expected to be._

_You see, there is a very large difference between being allowed to come home because you are beginning to loathe your new job – more than before, even – and being ordered to back away from the action because you've made a mess of things, and those you are working with want to prevent it from happening again._

_I had best explain what has finally caused my wish to be granted in a way that I blatantly did not want, and thus I have compounded my irresponsibility by flipping off my transmitter despite Mr. Joker's painfully terse-sounding request that I leave it on until I got back to the hotel, just in case, stopping in this rather conveniently-placed park, and plunking myself down on this park bench to w wholeheartedly vent my frustration with the universe. Despite Drake's order, and Mr. Joker's seconding of that order, that I go back to the hotel immediately._

_To begin at the beginning, we arrived at the university to interview the students and faculty who had attended Mr. Bone's seminar, and spent a lot of time in pleasant small-talk. On their side, mine, and Yomiko's to a lesser degree – Drake and Nancy seemed slightly annoyed at their skilful evasion of any questions, the answers to which might have proved helpful._

_Well, just as Drake had wrested from one student that yes, Mr. Bone had seemed very antisocial in an incredibly charismatic sort of way, another man slipped quietly into the room. _

_Now, one would think that, upon noticing that the very man we were here to find had just slunk into the room, telling Yomiko, Nancy, and Drake would be a good idea._

_It so blatantly wasn't, diary dear._

_I (fairly subtly, I think) pointed him out to Yomiko, who took no notice, so less subtly, I pointed him out again. Again, no reaction. So, being no more annoyed than one might be at being ignored when they had genuinely important information to convey, I abandoned caution and told her more loudly than was perhaps wise._

_Than definitely was wise._

_Mr. Bone took immediate notice, pulled something that looked vaguely like a tiny pumpkin from his jacket, and proceeded to blow a massive, gaping hole through the wall of the room and escape in a giant layer cake._

_No, I have not gone suddenly mad. I'm not a bloody cock-up _and_ a hopeless looney._

_I'm perfectly content to only be a bloody cock-up. (I know this term isn't polite, but I'm not _feeling _very polite at the moment.)_

_Actually, I'm not content to be a bloody cock-up, which is why I'm currently sitting in a park, scribbling in a diary, and knocking my head repeatedly against a metaphorical wall at the knowledge that just as soon as I've been given something important to do, I've gone and ruined it. _

_Bugger, I say._

_Bugger and bugger again. _

_Now, what I would really like to know is how on earth I was supposed to know instinctively that Nancy, Drake, and Yomiko had already noticed Bone, when none of them had so much as glanced at the door, and that they were simply biding their time._

_No, I am _not_ crying! Bloody silly thing to do at a time like this, just because I've disappointed my boss by proving that I can't do a job I haven't been trained to do._

_But he did sound _so _disappointed. And not even angry, but just…resigned, which is much, much worse._

_Still, if this kindly old gentleman beside me doesn't stop staring oddly and looking as though he's wondering if it would be the right thing to offer me a hankie and a peppermint, I just may say something unpleasant to him._

_How strange._

_Now I have two men staring at me oddly._

_The kindly old fellow on the bench, who has just slipped me a hankie, and a man with a muffin on his head._

_I think it's supposed to be a hat._

_Looks rather silly, honestly._

_I think I'd best get back to the hotel _now.

_

* * *

_

_You know, I fairly asked for something like this to happen._

_Back in the park, just as I was leaving, I thought to myself,_

_"Well, I've made a mess of the mission and caused everyone else more work. Mr. Joker is angry enough with me that I may not have a job to go back to. Drake, Yomiko, and Nancy are angry with me. A man with a muffin on his head is stalking me. How can things get any worse?"_

_Rather funny that, just after I thought that, someone hit me on the head with a blunt object. _

_I think it was a ladle, from the shape and the noise it made._

_Like I said, I bitterly hate my brothers._

_I've only just woken up now._

_Surprisingly, I still had my diary tucked away where I left it, although my transmitter is, predictably, gone._

_I'm beginning to wish I had listened to Mr. Joker and left it on, and just let him see and hear me sniffle away like a silly child._

_I'm bloody well not sniffling now; I'm far too angry._

_You'd be angry, too, if you'd been thrown into a pantry with steel walls and a door locked from the outside, directly onto a sack of flour which promptly burst all over you._

_You'd probably be even angrier if you tried to get up to investigate, only to feel a sudden sensation of choking, and notice at this point that you are wearing a _collar_, and are being held to the wall by a strip of leather looped through the ring at the back of said collar. A bloody _leash_, for the love of God!_

_As soon as I get free, somebody will die._

_Just let some poor fool come within the range of my (twitch) leash. He will have his finger bitten off._

_Or at least, he will be repeatedly poked between the eyes. Mwah-hah!!!!_

_…I must confess, I'm a little afraid._

_A lot afraid, if one wants to be really picky._

_Incredibly afraid._

_I realize that I am fearing a man with a muffin on his head, who no doubt works for the man who blew up a wall with a pumpkin before escaping to freedom in a layer cake, and that this indicates that there is something wrong with me, but consider if you will that anyone who would consider being a "theme villain" is likely a troubled individual._

_I simply have always found that the most troubled individuals are also the most sadistic individuals. And theme villainy gives _so_ many possibilities for painful ways to kill someone._

_I desperately wish I hadn't turned off my transmitter._

_At least I can hope that someone happened to _notice_ the silly blonde girl being clubbed unconscious with a ladle in the middle of a public park, and that I won't be in here long enough to discover whether or not Drake, Nancy, and Yomiko are angry enough to simply leave me to the fate of death by giant egg-beater or something._

_I have just imagined exactly how that would feel._

_I hate my imagination._

_Oh, lovely. I have just noticed a mouse scurrying across the ground._

_Right, then! The flour all over me, I can deal with, as the sacks make for a reasonably comfy place to sit while trapped in the lair of a madman. The collar and leash…well, it's difficult and very damaging to my pride, but I can deal with it _if I have to_. Would be very nice, I can imagine, if Mr. Joker and some articles of clothing flying across the room were somehow involved…_

_Um.__ The ink seems to be running again._

_Now, where was I?_

_Oh, yes. The flour and the leash and collar can be dealt with if they must. Death by egg-beater would be unpleasant, but everyone dies someday, right?_

_Mice are where I draw the line._

_Even in the midst of my absolute disgust, though, I am cackling in rather wicked glee at the fact that this man's pantry has mice._

_Have finished cackling and begun screaming frantically and scrambling to my feet as the mouse has decided that up my skirt seems like a good place to pass its little mouse-time._

_And now the door is opening._

_Time to show them the horror that is an angry Wendy!_

* * *

_Humph. I am affronted._

_Mr. Bone has just been here, and the first thing he did was tell me I had a little flour on my nose._

_Well, goodness, I hadn't noticed! I thought that my nose had somehow been miraculously spared, even though the rest of me was liberally covered!_

_Then he came right up to me and wiped it off for me._

_I bit at his fingers, but he got them out of the way in time._

_Then I tried to punch him._

_I didn't miss, or anything, but he didn't react much. Just looked down at my fist planted firmly in his stomach and said he hoped I didn't make my living by wrestling._

_This is why I am now feeling rather affronted._

_Some people just don't recognize my scariness._

_In addition to feeling affronted, I am also feeling furious, dismayed, terrified, utterly confused, and hungry._

_Mr. Bone explained his entire plot to me, as I suppose was inevitable, being that he is the very picture of a villain cliché (although, most do refrain from wearing capes fastened with very tiny éclairs) ._

_As it turns out, he plans to rob a bank._

_Yes, I know._

_A bank._

_We flew here in a tearing hurry to stop the world from being sucked into a pastry-caused black hole, and the man has been planning a bank robbery._

_So then I, in my wisdom, asked him curiously about the plan involving the book, and what had happened to _it

_Well, as it turns out, he had no intention of using the book in his plan. Or of attempting to destroy the world with a pastry._

_However, when I brought it up, he acquired this very thoughtful expression, and said that this was a good idea, and that I was smarter than he'd assumed from our last meeting._

_Humph! I'm not the one who holds his cape together with a high-calorie dessert and drives a layer cake! _

_At any rate, he has just left, and now you see why I am feeling affronted, dismayed, terrified, and confused._

_Why hungry?_

_I am feeling hungry, of course, because I haven't eaten in a fairly large stretch of time._

_As Mr. Bone left, my aggravating tummy protested loudly at the lack of food in it. He turned, smirked, and told me to help myself to anything I could reach._

_I do hope the world is destroyed before I am hungry enough to resort to eating flour by itself!_

_Or, you know, that I am rescued or find a brilliant means of klutzing myself into an escape before the world is destroyed _or_ I resort to eating flour by itself._

_Whichever one prefers._

_At any rate, the door is creaking open with the ominous slowness that I didn't think anyone really used to open doors outside of bad horror movies, and thus I had best tuck this little Diary out of sight. _

_Somehow, I have a feeling that the nefarious villain would be even less sympathetic toward it than Drake._

_

* * *

_

_This cannot be happening._

_This completely, absolutely, and totally cannot be happening._

_Who do you think is currently sitting right next to me, pouting at being thrown into this ridiculous situation, perched atop a pile of flour sacks, fuming at the straps of leather, one connecting his collar to mine, and the other looped through the hook on the wall?_

_Why, Agent Rock, of course!_

_It seems, dear diary, that we really _were_ destined to become roommates at some point._

_I wonder if this is judgment for complaining at the idea of sharing a room with him._

_At least, in the hotel, we wouldn't have been joined together by leather straps._

_Not unless we'd gotten to know one another a LOT better before morning, that is._

_Oh, dear. I wonder if I ought to scratch that out just in case he happens to glance this way instead of trying to chew through his leash._

_He's going to hurt his teeth that way._

_I wonder if I should tell him so._

_No, I definitely should _not_ have told him so._

_All I got by way of thanks was a growl, and an attempt to chew off my finger._

_Have just asked him how _he_ came to be captured._

_He has replied that if I'll shut up and stop writing down everything he says, he'll tell me. _

_Am going to put the diary down and listen now; will report back soon._

* * *

_Am now reporting back._

_Am glad to report that I am no longer the biggest idiot in this room._

_You see, when Agent Rock happened to notice a group of twelve men with muffins on their heads while taking care of the "special business" that he won't tell me about, he thought it might have had something to do with Bone._

_This was, I would say, a fairly good assessment, and not at all why he is an idiot._

_The part that makes him an idiot was his decision to attack all twelve of them by himself._

_He grumbled something odd about how he could have won if the fight had been scripted._

_Sadly, the people I work with are still rambling odd things at odd times. _

_Will make a note to look into possible causes; could there be something in the water?_

_Agent Rock has just noted petulantly that if I were_ useful_ like Yomiko, I could use my diary to get us out of here._

_Have just informed him snippily that, if I were "useful like Yomiko", Bone would likely have taken and shredded my diary after first reading it just because that is the kind of thing that these evil people do._

_Am now not speaking to Agent Rock._

_Have changed my mind about not speaking to Agent Rock, as he has just informed me that he still knows of a way we can get out of here._

_Am going to sign off now, as he has just informed me that I can damn well wait here until Drake and Nancy and Yomiko come for me if I don't stop writing down everything he says._

_Honestly! Why do men hate diaries so?_

_Your faithful servant, _

_Wendy_

* * *

End Notes: Yaay! Second-last chapter! Or…y'know, third-last chapter. Depends on how verbose the next one gets.

Sigh. So, in other words, fifth- or sixth-last chapter. I love being overly wordy! :o)

Also, I'm not sure if the plot came in awkwardly, or if it works. I personally liked this chapter, but it's kinda different from what everything else has been. Maybe that's good, maybe that's bad. :o)


	9. Giant DeathMachines and Other Small Anno...

Chapter 9

---------------------------------------------------------------

_April 2, 2001 - Monday_

_Dear Diary,_

_The next time a man tells me he knows of a brilliant means of escape – or of doing almost anything else in the world – I am NOT going to listen. _

_Of course, Agent Rock – who made a point of telling me that his real name is Florence last night when neither of us could sleep for sheer anticipation of putting our Brilliant Plan into motion (and also for terror of the mice periodically scurrying up my skirt, in my case), thus proving that he wants very badly to be picked on – did manage to get us out of that well-stocked dungeon. _

_I only wish that our daring escape hadn't ended in our doing dishes whilst chained to the sinks in a large, industrial-looking kitchen. _

_And I REALLY wish that Bone hadn't found it necessary to make me wear a bloody maid outfit! First a collar; then a leash; then lots of poufy skirts, an apron, and a ruffly hat!_

_And why didn't Agent Florence have to wear one?_

_Hehehe__…yes, I have been having fun with this, and shall doubtlessly continue to. Although, I did nearly lose a finger the fourteenth time I said, "Be a dear and pass the tea towel, would you, Florence?"_

_I think it is just as well for my own continued existence that I didn't bother to share with him the delightful mental images of him wearing a frilly outfit similar to mine._

_At any rate, all of this is doing very little towards explaining what our daring escape entailed, and exactly where it went wrong._

_And that IS an interesting story. _

_Well, closer to a painful and embarrassing story, if you want the truth._

_Either way, whether interesting or painful and embarrassing, I had better get on with it quickly. I only have so much time, as I am currently on my break. _

_At least Mr. Bone gives us breaks._

_Rather an odd thing to do, when one considers that we're prisoners, and this whole dish-washing thing is a punishment. _

_Have suddenly realized, with much dismay, that the counter I am perched on while writing is soaking wet._

_Wonderful._

_Well, at least I didn't ruin any GOOD clothes this way._

_I am honestly going to complain to Bone about wearing this while Agent Rock gets to wear his own clothes._

_I wonder why, anyway._

_Have concluded that Mr. Bone is simply a pervert with a maid…thing._

_Have also concluded that my attempt to explain Our Daring Escape and How it Went Wrong has hit an undeniable wall._

_Am going to try this again._

_  
Honestly, I should have known that we were headed for nothing but pain and trouble when Agent Rock voiced those fatal words, "You flirt with him to distract him, and I'll knock him over while his attention's on you!" _

_Did I warn Agent Rock about the inevitable failure of this abysmally stupid plan?_

_No._

_Did I instead congratulate him on thinking of this and ask how exactly I should flirt with Bone and would he let me practice on him first?_

_Oh, yes._

_Well, come now! It was the stupidest possible thing to do in the situation; why _wouldn't_ I have done it?_

_I think it fit the pattern quite admirably._

_The pattern of what?__ Why, the pattern of absolutely everything we've tried to do so far while on this mission._

_Well, to make a long story short, Mr. Bone was not fooled when I assumed a seductive pose and asked him if that was a cucumber in his pocket, or if he was just happy to see me._

_Although, I almost did manage to get him side-tracked into explaining that yes, it was actually a cucumber in his pocket._

_Apparently, he likes to have one on hand, just in case._

_While he was explaining this, Agent Rock tried to rush him._

_I say "tried" because, still being chained to the wall, he was utterly unsuccessful. He ended up just sort of running in place several feet away from Bone, while Bone stared at him oddly and I groaned in despair a whole lot._

_Honestly, I wonder why neither of us considered that Bone might not come close enough to Agent Rock for him to knock over. _

_For that matter, I wonder why Agent Rock didn't decide to abandon the plan when it became clear that it wouldn't work._

_I think he's inhaled too much flour, and it's beginning to affect his brain adversely._

_Well, upon our attempt at escape, Bone became very angry for about ten seconds, during which he threw a tantrum that would have made any two-year old shake their head in disgust at the man's inability to control his emotions. Then, very suddenly, he calmed and assumed a scary sort of smirk. Then he told us that, since we wanted to leave the room so badly, he had just the thing for us, and that we wouldn't be returning to the room to find out just how good we'd had it for a long, long time._

_I don't mind admitting that at that, I started screaming like Drake confronted by a diary as all manner of complex, bizarre, and utterly, utterly painful death machines made their way through my mind._

_Imagine my immense relief (and, oddly enough, my shred of disappointment) when we found ourselves washing dishes._

_And now, I have just been informed by an angry Agent Florence (hehe!) that my break is up, so I'd better get back to work before Bone takes away our breaks altogether._

_If he tried, I would complain to the Union of Prisoners Put to Work in the Lairs of Madmen. _

_All right, so I know I've no leg to stand on here. I know there's no such thing._

_Although, there _should_ be._

_These villains are altogether too fond of oppressing people._

_Honestly; a MAID outfit! _

_Your faithful (and disgruntled) servant, _

_Wendy_

_--------------------------------------------------------------_

_April 3, 2001 – Tuesday_

_Dear Diary,_

_You know, with every day that passes, I wish more and more that I had never had a six-hundred pound box of rocks land on me and narrowly escaped the same fate with five massive bookshelves._

_Agent Florence has just peeked over my shoulder, and demanded to know what the hell I'm on about this time._

_Have just explained how my "superpower" was discovered._

_Have decided that I hate Agent Florence, as he has just nodded with the air of one finally understanding matters, and said,_

_"Oh! So, THAT'S what you're good for!"_

_Have decided that I hate Agent Florence even more, as he has just informed me with a mischievous grin, that would have been cute if it hadn't been on someone insulting me, that I am very, very good at being a hopeless bungler and an eternal klutz. _

_I am now officially not speaking to him._

_Have relented, and decided that I _will_ speak to him, but very coldly, since he has told me that I may be a klutz, but I'm a very _cute_ klutz. _

_Humph! Flattery will get you nowhere, Agent Florence. _

_Oh, my. I ought to tuck my diary back out of sight, as the door has just slammed open again. I suppose it's back to the kitchen for us. _

_Sigh…_

_I was hoping I would be able to avoid that silly maid outfit again._

_I didn't dare to hope that we would be rescued or escape or anything like that, after yesterday, but I had thought that avoiding the outfit was a reasonable thing to wish for._

_Apparently not._

_Have just asked Mr. Bone, who has just swept dramatically and menacingly into the room (I'm sure that was the intended effect, at least) why on earth he is having his prisoners wash dishes._

_He has replied quite politely that it is because his entire staff of henchmen have threatened to go on strike if they develop dishpan hands from all this menial labour. _

_Prisoners, he has informed us, cannot go on strike._

_Humph! Well, we'll just see about that if I have to stay in this silly costume much longer!_

_Your faithful (and still disgruntled) servant,_

_Wendy_

_---------------------------------------------------------_

_April 4, 2001 – Wednesday_

_Dear Diary, _

_Nothing terribly exciting happened today. Agent Florence and I washed a lot of dishes, Mr. Bone gave me a new maid outfit to try on (a bright pink one, with a much shorter skirt, as he is indeed a pervert of epic proportions), I attempted to teach a few of the mice that live in our nest of flour with us to tap-dance, I learned that you cannot teach mice to tap-dance, Agent Rock learned that when you poke a mouse in the back of the head it turns around and bites your finger, and I learned that when you laugh at Agent Rock's misfortune, he does not speak to you for the rest of the day._

_Oh, yes; and we were fed to a large, scary death machine._

_Nothing came of it, quite obviously. _

_Of course, I could be writing from beyond the grave. _

_Spooky, no?_

_But I'm not writing from beyond the grave. I'm still quite firmly on this side of the grave, in a sack of flour, listening to Agent Rock mutter about the mouse bite on his left pinky finger. _

_He's being extra-careful to mutter loudly enough that I can hear every word, since he can't actually talk to me._

_He isn't doing that right now. _

_Talking to me, that is._

_Imagine my despair._

_Still, I suppose I ought to write an account of the only event of the day worth mentioning._

_Let me just say that I was right about the egg-beaters._

_This morning, at approximately 9:30 a.m., Agent Rock and I found ourselves tied to giant egg-beaters, which would then be lowered into a massive vat of meringue, where we would remain until we drowned in the mess of egg white and sugar. _

_I really, really, really hate theme villains. _

_But I really, really, really love my useless superpower. _

_You see, while the beaters were being lowered, Agent Rock and I were both flailing and twisting in a desperate attempt to free ourselves before we died in the silliest possible way that doesn't involve penguins. _

_After all, that's what the heroes always do in movies, and I can't remember the last time I saw a movie hero die in a large, silly death machine._

_While I was squirming and whimpering that I didn't want to be a pie, my shoe came off, and flew into the mechanism, which Bone idiotically left exposed instead of building a protective canopy, or even putting them inside the machine, thus proving that he is every inch a true super-villain by his sheer stupidity._

_The mechanisms rather disapproved my shoe being in them, and began to creak and groan and spark rather wildly._

_Bone was in the process of running from the room and leaving us to die in the explosion, when one of his minions scurried in and whispered something to him, while both of them cast me all manner of suspicious, loathing, and indifferent glances._

_Then Bone said something to the minion before storming away in a rather monumental huff._

_You see, as the minion who rescued us (George, by the way) explained to us on the way back to the pantry, he had found out through means that he told us with nervously shifting eyes were a secret, about my special gift for lucky accidents. When he had explained his findings to Bone, his boss had decided not to risk the health of his entire fortress by leaving me to cause more damage to the various things that will inevitably be trying to harm me in a blowing-up death machine just yet, until it became completely necessary._

_Or until he was on the verge of succeeding at sucking the world into a black hole of sheer deliciousness and his own survival became a non-issue. _

_I asked curiously why they hadn't gone ahead and killed Agent Rock, who promptly put me in a headlock while yelling at me to shut up._

_This, I suppose, is the other reason that he is currently not speaking to me._

_Yes, it is still very tragic._

_Your faithful servant,_

_Wendy_

_----------------------------------------------------------------------_

_April 5, 2001 – Thursday_

_Dear Diary,_

_Continuing on from yesterday's pattern of learning important lessons, I learned an important lesson today: when you try to feed Agent Rock to a giant death machine, he takes rather violent exception. _

_You see, I was awakened this morning by the sound of my dear friend Florence trying to chew through his leash again. This time, though, he seemed quite set on accomplishing it._

_And then the silly boy proceeded to whine for the next hour about how much his chipped tooth hurt!_

_I was sorely tempted to kick him in a delicate area to take his mind off of the pain of his tooth, but I was derailed from this train of thought, perhaps for the best, when the door swung open._

_I think Mr. Bone must be tired of having us around._

_He's abandoned showmanship and stopped creaking the door open with ominous slowness, opting instead to just sort of slam it open._

_Still, he made quite a sensation, not by his entrance, but by who he dragged in after him._

_Or rather, who he had at least seven of his minions drag in after him, much with the air of the unfortunates in charge of rounding up a runaway bull, since he himself is far too noodly in the arms and chest to do it himself._

_Honestly, he ought to think about taking up rugby. He'd build up his arm strength in no time, and he'd get some broadness to his chest._

_Unless he ran away crying the first time someone shoved him._

_Which is very possible._

_At any rate, I have yet again become side-tracked, proving that the boredom is beginning to make me go more than a little mad._

_At this, Drake, who has been reading over the shoulder that Agent Rock is not reading over, has snorted and said it was a little late to worry about that._

_Yes, Drake._

_Come now, who did you think Bone's minions had dragged in? _

_Yomiko's far too skilled to be caught (particularly by an idiot like Bone), unless she was being lured with a book._

_Nancy is also far too skilled to be caught, and doesn't have the susceptibility to bribery by book._

_Ye gods, could you imagine? What a pair they would be!_

_At any rate, I am being ordered to put my diary away so that the three of us can plan our escape._

_I have just asked Florence, who has really gotten off entirely too easily for all the torment he has put me through in the past two days, if he is planning on suggesting something that will work this time._

_I have just been told, in no uncertain terms, to shut up._

_Drake has added that he's just itching for an excuse to throw my diary out a window._

_Drake is now grumbling, as I have pointed out the severe lack of windows in our dungeon-pantry. I wish he would stop it; it is getting rather tiresome to hear these men grumble everlastingly._

_----------------------------------------------------------------------_

_I wish Drake would go back to grumbling._

_You see, while we waited for Agent Rock to stop pouting over the indignity of being dipped into meringue (which Drake had enough questions about!), Drake asked why on earth I was wearing a maid outfit. And a bright pink maid outfit, at that._

_I grudgingly explained that Mr. Bone is a horrid, dirty old man, upon which Drake laughed until I thought he would be sick._

_And honestly, I may well have been thinking the same thing since I first put the damn thing on, but I do wish Drake would stop chuckling about how I ought to make sure to smuggle it out with me when we finally escape, to model for Joker._

_Although, I do wonder if he would like it. He would probably like the other one better. I doubt he harbours much of a hidden fondness for bright pink, even though the short skirt might convince him to develop a taste for it…_

_Ehem! Am now subtly wiping the trail of drool off the page and asking Drake how he came to be caught._

_Am now waiting for Drake to stop grumbling long enough to tell me._

_Oh, dear; Drake has just motioned for Agent Rock and me to gather around. I've seen him do this before – this story is going to be a long one…_

_-----------------------------------------------------------------------_

_Am pleased to report, diary dear, that Agent Rock is still the stupidest person in the room._

_I know that he was desperately hoping for Drake's story to surpass the stupidity of attacking twelve minions of a known enemy in a seedy bar, but really, it was quite heroic, and really rather dramatic._

_And romantic, I would say, if he would stop describing Yomiko as "that stupid girl" long enough to let me!_

_Although, I suppose it is just as well that he doesn't exactly seem to be melting with passion for the woman he just sort-of rescued from the clutches of evil (and stupidity); Yomiko and Nancy are so wholly adorable together that it would be quite a shame to taint it with a sordid love triangle._

_And now, here is the story:_

_Drake, Yomiko, and Nancy were in the process of tirelessly searching the city high and low in the desperate quest to find their allies (at least, that is what I am pretending, along with imagining into the scenario a nice bit of gut-twisting worry for my – er, our – no, just my – safety on the part of Mr. Joker), when they encountered a group of them quite unexpectedly. _

_At least, Drake said, that is what they assumed the group of eight men with muffins on their heads were._

_Agent Rock snorted at this point, and commented that Drake must be a wuss, to have been taken prisoner by only eight henchmen, and with backup; he, as he so kindly reminded us, had required twelve henchmen to suppress just him._

_At this, Drake told Agent Rock flatly to shut up._

_Ah! It is nice to no longer be the only one being told that!_

_Back to the story._

_The group of henchmen managed to divide the three of them, at which point a lot more henchmen flooded into the area, which has put Agent Rock into a bit of a snit._

_At any rate, from where he was fighting off several men trying to repeatedly poke him in the head with carrots, he noticed three men dangling books temptingly before Yomiko's eyes. He looked around to see where Nancy was, and she was quite occupied with the twelve men poking her with carrots. Then he looked back to see Yomiko very close to taking the bait and being captured._

_Then, as Drake puts it, he "sorta panicked". Utterly forgetting that Yomiko usually has more of a plan than one might think to watch her, he made for the three book-dangling henchmen, thus ignoring his own group of carrot-poking henchmen, who thus managed to quite effectively knock him out with some sort of blunt object._

_A ladle, I told him helpfully, although I don't think he appreciated my helpfulness._

_And the part of this story that made Agent Rock snort with laughter and Drake and I both hit him, is the fact that, as he went about the business of being unconscious, he saw, through blurring vision, Yomiko snatch up the books from all three men at once and use the pages to glue the men to the wall._

_And now, here we sit, Drake and Agent Rock and I, all trying very hard not to ask why on earth Yomiko and Nancy didn't come to Drake's aid while he was being clubbed with a ladle or seven._

_Perhaps they've simply gotten lost._

_Agent Rock has cheerfully suggested the possibility of their having been attacked and killed by rabid cheese Danishes._

_Now Agent Rock has been duly swatted, and Drake has declared briskly that we should really try to think of an escape plan._

_I know that it will be far, far more intelligent and successful than the one that Agent Rock and I recently failed so miserably at devising. _

_After all, it can't possibly be any stupider._

_And now that I have just sealed all our fates, I shall go and offer what assistance I can._

_Your faithful servant,_

_Wendy_

_----------------------------------------------------------_

End Note: It is a small update, but an update nonetheless! (Strikes dramatic pose) Anyway, I hope you've enjoyed it.

Also, you may have noticed that I've altered the year of each entry to 2001. Upon finding out that everything in the OVA (or OAV - I can never get that straight!) happened in 2001, I was rather horrified at having written a story, in which Nancy was a central character, a year before any of the other three would have met her. Oops… :)


	10. The Beginning of the End of Our Troubles

Chapter 10

-----------------------------------------------------------

_Dear Diary,_

_What an utterly bizarre day!_

_I know that I have said that about at least half of the days that I have lived through since becoming a field agent (in training), but the sheer strangeness of this day easily overshadows that of any day I have ever experienced in my life._

_So, let that put it in perspective for you, future-me-who-drags-out-our-old-diary-on-a-rainy-afternoon. _

_I am currently back at the hotel, and we are to leave for London tomorrow morning. I needn't tell you how utterly giddy this makes me, even though I'm a little uncertain as to exactly how angry I can expect everyone back at the Library to be with me right now._

_Yes, particularly Mr. Joker. And what of it? And what of the fact that I am currently wracking my brains for little ways to make him less annoyed and more pitying? Or, if I decide to go with the scandalously short skirt and frivolous impractical undies that I shall conveniently reveal by "accidentally" tripping, more something-else-that-is-neither-pitying-nor-annoyed. _

_I suppose I ought to explain what exactly led to Agent Rock's, Drake's, and my no longer living in a distinctly dungeonesque pantry, sleeping on flour sacks, and making friends with the mice._

_And washing dishes in embarrassing outfits._

_Although, that was just me; Bone felt no need to force Drake into a dress any more than he did Agent Rock, for which we are all grateful._

_The Beginning of the End of Our Troubles came while we were being put back into our pantry dungeon early this morning for a bit of sleep after working the night shift (why they needed to _have _a night shift for dishwashing in the first place, I'll never understand – likely just to be mean; villains, you know). _

_Bone had just tied Agent Rock's leash to the wall again, was in the process of finishing with Drake's (and I must say, I'm stunned that Drake didn't move Heaven and Earth to keep _that_ from happening – unlike Agent Rock, I suppose _he_ knows how to bide his time and play along instead of raging like a child!) and was about to do mine, when a mouse scurried out from between two flour sacks, and made for the poufy, lacy, very _pink_ haven of under my skirt._

_Needless to say, I took exception._

_I explained calmly to the mouse exactly why I didn't want it up my skirt, as that privilege was reserved specifically for…well, for a certain someone else if he should ever get around to bloody well _wanting_ it, and being a reasonable little vermin, the mouse found a new place to take a nap._

_Oh, very well; I went slightly hysterical and hopped about screaming as _Drake _explained to the mouse with a slight grin that I would only allow Mr. Joker under there. Which made Agent Rock snicker and utterly confused Mr. Bone who, I would assume, has not been near the underside of a girl's skirt in likely his entire life._

_At any rate, yes, I panicked in a rather shameful manner._

_Still, I would say it's quite a good thing, as one of my hysterical little hops sent me directly back into Mr. Bone._

_Did you know that the simple act of knocking someone backwards onto a stone floor can knock them completely out cold, diary dear?_

_Well, it can._

_As soon as I determined that our captor was, indeed, completely unconscious, I did what any intelligent and fast-thinking super-agent would have done, and set about untying my still-bound comrades._

_Oh, very well! I panicked a lot more, whimpering about how I had just accidentally killed a man, and what kind of person did that make me, because I felt a little guilty about it, but not guilty enough, which made me feel guilty all over again._

_Then, when Drake began grumbling and Agent Rock yelled at me, I remembered that they were there, and that we were basically free to leave the pantry-dungeon whenever we wanted to now._

_So, I untied Agent Rock (once he explained to me exactly how to work the locks, and told me impatiently to never mind why on earth they made leather straps with padlocks on the ends), Drake untied himself, and we left._

_Only to find a lot of angry henchmen waiting for us on the other side of the door._

_Which we eliminated quickly and efficiently with a wide variety of stunningly cool action-movie moves._

_Oh, fine! So I got immediately out of the way at Drake's and Agent Rock's combined requests, and Agent Rock grabbed a conveniently-placed steel folding chair and began hitting them, which made some very interesting noises, I must say. Although, not as interesting as the noises they made when Drake picked one of the henchmen up and began using him to bludgeon the rest of them._

_Why on earth did that maneuver seem so familiar?_

_As it turned out, I wasn't left completely out in the cold. You see, one of the henchmen decided that it would be safer to pick on the terrified little blonde huddling in the corner in a maid outfit than on the steel-chair waving, maniacally laughing, six-foot-something Agent Rock. Or even worse, the eerily calm, significantly-taller-than-six-foot, well-able-to-destroy-them-with-his-bare-hands Drake. _

_I don't remember entirely what happened. I stepped back with a little squeak of fright – although, a _dignified_ little squeak of fright, I'll have you know! – and the next thing I knew, the man was buried under the remains of a massive, industrial-looking light fixture that got suddenly tired of the ceiling and decided to relocate to the floor._

_Could it be, I began to wonder, a little wary of jinxing it, that my dumb luck can hold its own in a real fight, when someone other than those poor, poor scientists are around to be harmed by it?_

_I didn't have time to ponder this in a properly dramatic manner. If there had been background music, it wouldn't have had time to even swell grandly before Agent Rock incapacitated the last of the henchmen with his chair, and called to me to stop making stupid faces and hurry up._

_Honestly, no one understands the value of a good, cinematic moment anymore! _

_Still, it was just as well for us to get around to moving, because at that moment, another group of henchpeople (have just realized that I was being horribly sexist) arrived, oddly enough drawn by the terrified screams of their friends. _

_They, however, only saw the backs of us as we ran away, screaming. Still in a very dignified manner, I would like to clarify. _

_Oh, come, now; what sort of idiot would stand and fight when they were outnumbered, seventy-to-three?_

_Agent Rock wields a steel chair almost as effectively as Drake wields a pillow (which, unfortunately, he didn't have with him at the time), but even _they _aren't that good! And I wasn't terribly anxious to test the exact extent to which my dumb luck operated on a large scale. _

_And so, we ran._

_And ran._

_And ran._

_Then we slowed to a jog. _

_Then we slowed to a fairly pleasant walk. _

_Behind us, seventy henchmen were doing essentially the same. _

_We all began having a friendly conversation, which stretched from the good movies each of us had seen lately, to music, to our plans for the summer, to the best way to turn leftover meatloaf into something edible. All in all, they were a very polite and interesting group of low-grade villains out for our blood._

_Although, there was one fellow who kept whistling Elvis songs. _

_Imagine my surprise when another henchman told us that everyone just called him Benny the Loser Henchman! _

_I must admit, I snickered a little._

_A lot._

_Especially when Drake sighed in deep resignation and said he might have known; there was just an _aura_ about that type._

_I must make a note to snidely refer to our Benny as Benny the Loser Helicopter Pilot. _

_Although, I might just do it in my head. _

_It might be too mean to say it to his face. _

_I don't want to be _mean_, after all._

_At any rate, I am beginning to wonder if my Intensified Dumb Luck can bring about Absurd Coincidences That Simply Should Not Be, too, because as we were being pursued at a leisurely stroll down the corridors of Bone's hideout, we nearly strolled headlong into Yomiko and Nancy, who were coming towards us at a speed faster than a stroll, but slower than a stride. _

_Nancy demanded to know what the hell we were doing there, which made me wonder why on earth they broke into Bone's fortress, if not to rescue us._

_I did not ask, as I did not particularly want to hear that they only make a point of rescuing people who are useful._

_Agent Rock, however, had no such qualms, and thus informed Nancy snippily that we were busily undoing our status as prisoners, and what were _they_ doing here?_

_Yomiko replied hastily that they had come for us, but they just hadn't expected to find us wandering the fortress freely._

_Nancy__ looked rather surprised at this, which makes me suspect that Yomiko made it up on the spot for the sake of tact._

_At this point, Yomiko proved that she's really the common sense of this group by asking exactly how we came to be socializing with Mr. Bone's minions._

_I must admit, I was rather startled by this question, as it hadn't occurred to me._

_Obviously, it hadn't occurred to any of the minions, either, to wonder why they had left off ruthlessly pursuing us and opted to give us the guided tour instead._

_A pity that Yomiko and her common sense felt it necessary to remind them._

_A minute and a half later, since minions are not known for being particularly bright, saw the five of us running through the halls, driven relentlessly forward by a near-solid wall of men clothed in chef's uniforms._

_They didn't have hats, though, because Mr. Bone apparently insists that all his minions _earn_ their hats._

_Apparently none of us are very bright either, because it took us about five minutes of running and screaming to recall that we had some tricks of our own._

_Well, to recall that Yomiko has some tricks of her own. And Nancy. Drake and (giggle) Florence and I were all fairly useless, since Drake had left all his heavy weaponry in a "secret hiding place" (which, being outside and far away from the fortress, did him little good) and was uncomfortably certain that he had strained a muscle with the technique of using one henchman as a bludgeon against the others, there were no steel folding chairs for Agent Rock to use for a weapon, and there was little opportunity for me to klutz my way to usefulness._

_In fact, Yomiko did not recall that she did, indeed, have several methods of improving our circumstances until one abysmally foolish minion (possibly the one they had called Benny the Loser Minion, although I wouldn't bet money on that) decided to attack her with paper plates._

_Oh, yes, that was indeed a fun three-and-a-half minutes._

_I remember everything I saw from my safe haven huddled beneath a table between Nancy and Drake, who had simultaneously decided to duck and cover as the first razor-sharp paper plate whizzed past Drake's ear._

_I shall have to remember to thank them for also simultaneously deciding to each grab me by an arm and haul me with them._

_I didn't thank them at the time, because the hand-shaped bruises rather hurt._

_While we settled comfortably under the table to watch Yomiko take care of business in such a manner that left several of Bone's minions picking up various and sundry body parts, Agent Rock completely missed the point of getting to safety, and opted to stay where he was, amid the flying plates, and pout._

_I suppose it was rather hard on the poor boy's ego to be reduced to "the useless one" so soon after picking on me for being the same._

_Even now, I am trying very hard not to grin smugly at him. _

_I would still just as soon not spend the night in the hotel swimming pool or out on the hotel's front lawn._

_I've slept on a sack of flour long enough that, even if I have to share it with someone whose weapon of choice is a steel folding chair, bed is extremely appealing._

_It was only a matter of time before all of Bone's minions were down, at which point we went on our merry way, down the corridors at top speed for about four minutes before Nancy slowed to a walk, and asked with a frown if any of us actually knew where we were going._

_We all had to admit that no, we did not._

_Several minutes and a gentle reminder from Yomiko's monitor that Mr. Joker was still looking in on us every once in so often, we decided – well, Mr. Joker decided, Drake and Nancy agreed, Agent Rock pouted, Yomiko read a book, and I stayed Very Quiet – that we would be best occupied at this point by finding Mr. Bone's silly pastry studio and smashing it up with a baseball bat. _

_The baseball bat, I think, came from Drake, as Mr. Joker tends to avoid even mentioning sporting equipment if he can._

_But to return to the story, we all decided that the idea of destroying his cooking equipment would be a good one, whether or not we decided to use a baseball bat, which Yomiko informed us with complete earnestness she could make, if we wanted._

_Agent Rock, predictably, said thanks-but-no-thanks, he'd be fine if he could just find another folding chair._

_And so, off we went, toward the little blipping red dot on the map that Mr. Joker informed us was Bone's center of nefarious baked goods._

_Honestly, I don't know _how_ he has enough room to do_ anything_ inside a little red dot like that!_

_When I voiced this thought to Drake, though, he simply told me good-naturedly to shut up._

_I would have forgiven him, if he hadn't felt it necessary to borrow Yomiko's transmitter long enough to ask if Mr. Joker would like me to bring back the frilly pink maid outfit Bone had kindly given me to wear while here._

_Mr. Joker sounded a little annoyed by this question, but he did ask how long the skirt was, and when I confessed miserably that it just barely covered some of the necessary areas, he replied with a far less annoyed sound to his voice that yes, he would rather like to see it, although he wasn't exactly fond of the idea that I had been roaming around a fortress populated by men who likely hadn't been near a woman since their infancy while wearing it._

_I stonily ignored this, but unfortunately no one noticed, since Nancy chose that moment to get us back on track, by announcing that we had taken a wrong turn somewhere, and had been sort of slowly wandering in the absolute wrong direction for several minutes now._

_So we all turned around, checked the map once more for the red blippy dot that is by far too small to bake anything in, and off we went._

_When we reached a massive steel dome in the center of an even more massive room of Bone's secret lair, we decided that this was likely the place, particularly because the door was well padlocked._

_And because of the neon sign above the door, declaring, "Artemis G. Bone's Spectacular Pastry Dome". _

_Drake, Yomiko, Nancy and I all took this at face value, and started towards it, thanking the universe that this would soon be over, if we were very fortunate (which, Drake added, we probably wouldn't be, as it still wasn't his lucky day)._

_Before we could try the large steel doors leading into the dome, though, Agent Rock demanded in disbelief what we were doing, and if it hadn't occurred to any of us that this just might be a trap._

_Yomiko asked why we would think that._

_Agent Rock scoffed, tried to exchanged amused, long-suffering looks with Drake (who didn't reply with one of his own), and then told her that it just looked too easy._

_I don't remember exactly what happened after that – it was sort of a blur. An angry blond blur._

_When the world became clear again, Agent Rock was dangling from a point on a nearby wall that put him on eye level with Drake, who was gripping him tightly around the throat and asking him in a cold, far too calm voice that gave me chills, if he had been carrying out the same mission as us, and if he had, how anything that had happened to us so far could possibly be construed, no matter how big an idiot you were, as "too easy". _

_Agent Rock replied as best he could with a hand around his throat that that was his point: since nothing had been easy yet, why should it be starting now?_

_Yomiko said thoughtfully that this was kind of a good point, and I have to say, even though I have developed a personal policy against agreeing with Agent Rock on anything, I agreed. With Yomiko, thus maintaining the integrity of my personal policy._

_Nancy made a noise of deep consideration, and we all watched, awaiting her opinion, since it seemed that we had come to an unspoken agreement that Nancy was the smart one, and we would listen to her._

_I began to question the wisdom of this decision when Nancy simply shrugged and said that yeah, it looked a little too easy, but why fight it? After all, we had to get in somehow, and finding our way through a complex series of tunnels was bound to be just as much of a pain in the ass as anything that could possibly happen to us from simply barging in._

_Yomiko and even Agent Rock confessed that this made a lot of sense._

_And I admit, it did. _

_Still, I will also admit that, being a wee bit of a coward, and very fond of living, I still had my doubts as to the wisdom of this plan. Of course we would eventually have to reveal our presence – it was a rather integral part of confronting the villain. Still, what was the point of rushing these things? Particularly when it was very likely a trap? A trap that could end up hurting a lot?_

_And so, I followed everyone else in a very pointedly reluctant manner, and was rather annoyed when no one noticed my reluctance. _

_Then, just as we were about to try the door, Nancy stopped still, listened carefully to her transmitter, made a rather irritated noise, and said that Joker wanted a word with all of us. It seemed that he was a little annoyed that we had all decided on a course of action without bothering to consult him, since he _was_ still heading this mission, you know._

_I breathed a sigh of relief, knowing that the universe would return to sanity now, and that Mr. Joker would tell everyone just how silly they were being in rushing into a clear trap._

_Sadly, it didn't. Because he didn't._

_Honestly, I don't know why he felt the need to interrupt us in the process of doing something blatantly stupid, just to tell us that he thought we should do something blatantly stupid._

_When Nancy announced that Mr. Joker approved of our "plan", I couldn't keep quiet. I just had to express, in a calm and mature manner, my disgust._

_Agent Rock is completely lying when he says that I whimpered that I was scared, and it was going to hurt, and we should all just go home and let the world take care of itself._

_I only said about half of that. _

_The first half, by the way. Right up to the part about us going home and letting the world take care of itself – I did _not_ say that._

_I only pointed out that this was likely a trap, and that I was a little nervous to be walking directly into it, and that I would come back and haunt _someone_ if we all died strapped to those giant egg-beaters._

_At this point, Nancy shoved her transmitter at me, telling me with admirably concealed impatience that Joker wanted a word._

_The "word", it turned out, was to tell me very gently that he was, frankly, a bit disappointed. He had, it seemed, imagined that I would be more anxious than this to take bloody, vicious revenge upon any man who had put me through the humiliation of being dressed as a walking maid-fetish. _

_And I suppose that now you poor souls who have been driven by boredom to perusing my diary are expecting to read that I fired up indignantly and told Mr. Joker that yes, I damn well wanted revenge against Mr. Bone the Rampaging Pervert._

_Honestly, I wish I could tell you that you would be wrong._

_Instead, I proved once again that I can be very easily manipulated by the love of my life, and set about shoving the transmitter back at Nancy before storming toward the door, intent upon ripping every man in the Dome of Eternal Pastry to shreds myself._

_Yomiko, Nancy, Drake, and Agent Rock stopped me, reminding me indignantly that they wanted their shares, too._

_And so, dear diary and dear bored souls who are reading it, off we all went._

_And a bloody quarter of an hour followed. _

_Countless minions found their shoulders suddenly lonesome for their heads, as the saying goes. _

_  
Well, that was only about twelve, but it still made quite an impression on me, who still flinches upon seeing a child with a skinned knee._

_Honestly, it takes a lot to make a chocolate cream pie look unappetizing to me, but seeing those heads rolling merrily across the floor utterly robbed me of the urge to try to smuggle out the one sitting proudly on the counter, in my apron._

_Amid the chaos, those of us who were not Agent Paper and thus busy doing all the real work instead of drooling at the confections that the Dome of Eternal Pastry apparently contained noticed Mr. Bone trying to make a subtle escape._

_Honestly, the man does subtle worse than me! At least I don't insist that everyone in the nearby vicinity listen carefully to my innocent whistling!_

_When Drake had Bone shoved firmly up against a wall, we each took our turns trying to intimidate him into telling us what he was cackling about._

_However, that aggravating man merely continued to cackle._

_Finally, when Yomiko made her point by sending a cue card whizzing past to embed itself into the wall, millimeters from his ear, on either side of his head, he found his tongue loosened a little._

_He had, it seemed, already finished making his pastry and loaded it into a rocket, headed for the moon, which would be sucked into the resulting black hole of sheer deliciousness instead of Earth._

_An exceedingly annoyed Yomiko demanded to know what the obsession was for all these nefarious villains with rockets nowadays. Nancy informed her mildly that they were definitely compensating for something; she knew from personal experience with Ikkyu._

_After several seconds in which Yomiko, Drake and I all tried through severe slamming of heads against walls to rid ourselves of the disturbing mental images this had conjured, Mr. Bone cleared his throat in a vaguely annoyed way. It seemed that, having gotten started revealing his nefarious scheme and why there was absolutely no way to stop it at this point, he didn't want to be interrupted._

_He beamed at me and thanked me for the idea, adding that he hoped I wasn't hurt that he had modified it slightly; destruction of the planet was so cliché, whereas there was still something new and exciting left in destruction of the moon._

_Drake shoved an arm tightly across his throat and demanded to know what status the launch was at._

_Bone replied that it should be launching any minute now, so long as none of his incompetent hatless minions had broken anything._

_Agent Rock said with a snicker that since I wasn't one of said minions, Bone likely didn't have to worry._

_I elbowed Agent Rock rather hard in the ribs, and firmly resisted the temptation to shove him face-first into a nearby banana cream pie. _

_At this point, a severely annoyed and vaguely frantic Mr. Joker interrupted this idyllic scene through Nancy's transmitter and suggested that we go stop the launch. He added with a weary sigh that Yomiko ought to be able to figure it out, since Mr. Bone was apparently so utterly incapable of any originality whatsoever._

_And off we went, leaving Drake and Agent Rock to watch Mr. Bone._

_I suspect, however, that Drake was left to do all the work while Agent Rock merely helped himself to the various desserts scattered about the Dome of Eternal Pastry._

_At this point, it occurs to me that I am very sleepy indeed, and in addition to this, Agent Rock is threatening to hurl me out the window if I don't turn off the desk lamp and go to sleep decently. Poor boy must have made himself ill on all the baking he consumed._

_Honestly! No restraint, _and_ he has to use Drake's second-hand threats instead of thinking up original ones! A creature like him deserves only pity, so I shall stop hating him no matter how many snide remarks he makes._

_While on the subject of things I shall stop doing, I believe I shall stop writing for tonight, as I am uncomfortably certain that the fairies of coherency have not been with me for about the last page and a half._

_I'm sure it won't be a hardship to wait until tomorrow to hear the rest of the story, diary dear. Partly since you already know how it ends, given that we are all here. More, however, since you are inanimate, and thus cannot feel impatience._

_Yes, poor sleepy little Wendy has figured out all by herself that her diary is not alive._

_And with this great achievement, she is going to sleep, where she will hopefully overcome the urge to refer to herself in the third person._

_Your faithful servant,_

_Wendy_

_-----------------------------------------------------------------------------_

End Notes: Yeesh, that was looooooooooooooooooooong! And all one entry, too! And I'm sure you noticed my little cop-out means of not making it any longer. Sheepish grin Well, after close to five thousand words on _one bloody entry_, I'm sure you're ready to forgive me for not making the problem even worse. :o)

Anyway, thanks again to anyone who's reading, and I hope you've enjoyed.

Oh, yes; and I solemnly swear that there shall be a good deal of 'shippiness in the next chapter. I'm becoming as impatient for it as anyone. ;o)


	11. Home Again!

Chapter 11

* * *

_April 7, 2001 – Saturday_

_Dear Diary,_

_It is currently three-thirty in the morning, and I am exhausted beyond what I thought possible while still retaining consciousness, but as Agent Rock is currently snoring like a jack-hammer – he's even worse than Drake, which is no small amount of shock – I won't be able to sleep anyway._

_So, I might as well relate the rest of yesterday's Fantastic Adventures._

_Unfortunately, nothing that happened to us was either Fantastic, nor well described as An Adventure. They were more like yesterday's Vaguely Stupid Happenings._

_But, I suppose that, in the absence of Fantastic Adventures, Vaguely Stupid Happenings will do nicely._

_Just until some Fantastic Adventures come along, you know._

_To pick up where we left off, Yomiko and Nancy and I had just left Agent Rock and poor Drake to keep an eye (and in Drake's case, a fist) on Mr. Bone, while we disarmed the silly man's rocket._

_He definitely stole the idea, too. He could never have thought it up on his own. Which, being an awful, ridiculous idea, puts his intelligence in shining perspective._

_I have a few grievances to nurse over the next part of the story. _

_You see, the rocket was tall enough that it involved a lot of scaffolding to get to. Now, it is completely reasonable for any normal person to fall off a few times. It definitely does not imply that they are unable to climb around precarious wooden beams strung loosely together._

_I certainly didn't slip more than about three times. Well, four times. Maybe five._

_The point is, that isn't a lot! So, I don't see any reason why Nancy had to knock me unconscious with her gun (at least, I assume it was her gun; I suppose she might just have a very metallic-feeling fist that goes 'clang' when it hits me on the head; come to think of it, would a gun really do that? Has Nancy taken to carrying a ladle with her, too? Or a frying pan? Sounds a little silly, but that honestly fits the scheme of yesterday's Vaguely Stupid Happenings quite nicely), and shove me into a little hidey-hole underneath the scaffolding. _

_And I certainly don't believe what she told me right before hitting me about it being Mr. Joker's orders! I think she just wanted to relieve some tension by abusing the weakest member of the group (or so Agent Rock says, but we all know the truth). Mr. Joker would never order for me to be knocked on the head and left out of all the fun! Although, I do dislike heights quite a lot. And those beams sounded awfully creaky, from what I recall. And the whole structure looked like it was swaying just a little bit…_

_Why did I want to be taken along again? I'm getting a little queasy just thinking about clinging tightly to swaying, creaking, snapping beams._

_Well, I still managed to pick all the bloody and gory details out of Yomiko (although, it was more like overhearing her tell them to Drake), so I am quite satisfied._

_Apparently, Yomiko and Nancy got about halfway up the scaffolding before being attacked by fifteen men with muffins on their heads._

_Agent Rock said that they must have been exaggerating, and it was probably only three._

_Agent Rock is simply bitter that he got beaten up by nine henchmen._

_Am now expecting Agent Rock to sit bolt upright in bed, glare at me through the dim light of the desk lamp, and tell me snippily that it was _twelve_, thank-you-very-much, and they each had _two_ muffins on their heads._

_Oh, poor, poor Agent Pansy! _I_ once had _thirteen_ boys twice my size land on me during a rugby match in the park after school with my brothers and some of their friends, and I didn't even feel woozy when I got up! Am still not entirely sure how thirteen boys ended up on top of me; have concluded that some spectators got involved. _

_Am also not entirely certain, to this very day, why people snicker when I tell them this._

_Will make a mental note to ask Mr. Joker, and hope that he does not simply almost-smirk (since he_ never_ smirks, after all) and tell me that he's thinking of taking up rugby. That's what he did last time, you know. Isn't he strange?_

_Oh, dear. This is the problem with journaling while very, very tired. I've gotten a bit off-track again._

_The battle with the fifteen muffin-wearing men apparently went well, once Yomiko recalled that the muffin wrappers are, indeed, made from paper, albeit slightly waxy paper, and had a jolly time using this to her best advantage._

_I must admit, I _did_ think it was a little curious when fifteen muffins came raining down from the scaffolding just as I woke up from the Nancy's-gun-induced unconsciousness, and landed right in front of my little hidey-hole. _

_No, I didn't eat them! Honestly, who knows where they've been?_

_Well, I suppose I know where they've been: sitting on Mr. Bone's henchmen's heads. Can you imagine how much head-sweat they've probably soaked up? What a waste of a good muffin!_

_Nancy said that the most irritating thing about the trip up wasn't being repeatedly attacked by men in muffins or men in chef outfits, but was instead Mr. Joker saying every five minutes, "The Paper, cover The Rock", and then going off into a round of chuckles, despite being reminded icily each time that Agent Rock wasn't actually there._

_I wonder if Mr. Joker has been forgetting to sleep again. Honestly, Mr. Gentleman was right; the poor man is a wreck when I'm not there to remind him to do simple things like that!_

_Now, the next part of the story is a little confusing. Nancy and Yomiko's account of the events gets a little hazy, and of course, since they left me behind like a pair of big meanies, I have no idea what happened._

_Still, to their credit, they did try to tell me their story on the way back to the hotel. Or left me to overhear it while they told it to Drake. Well, while Yomiko did. Nancy just said that she didn't want to relive it, and pretended to be asleep._

_Yomiko__ said that they had just reached the top of the rocket and began looking for the kitchen in which the Pastry of Death was being constructed (surprisingly, by a few of Bone's henchmen – I wouldn't have thought he would leave something _that_ important to his helpers; certainly _I _wouldn't, if _I _were an evil villain), when the scaffolding began to wobble. _

_Nevertheless, our brave heroines pressed on, although Yomiko didn't actually put it that way in her story, and I'm just adding more poetic touches. _

_After all, the scaffolding had been wobbling the entire way up. There was little point in going to pieces about it now._

_Until, of course, _it_ began to. Go to pieces, that is._

_Then Yomiko made a rope out of her reserve paper (thankfully, she didn't have to touch her emergency back-up book) and swung herself and Nancy to the safety of the platform outside the entrance of the rocket._

_Unfortunately, when the scaffolding began to tip sideways, it somehow picked up enough momentum to dislodge the rocket. _

_Awfully flimsy rocket Mr. Bone has, if you ask me._

_Am trying not to think about the possible double meanings behind this statement, as I rather like being relatively unscarred mentally and emotionally._

_Still, the rocket tipped over, coincidentally crashing through the roof of the Dome of Eternal Pastry. _

_Yomiko__ tells me that as soon as it started happening, she and Nancy rushed back to the Dome (by swinging in through the hole that the rocket made) to make sure that Drake was okay._

_And Agent Rock, she added quickly when that same Agent shot her an outraged, hurt look._

_Honestly, he was a terror to all three of us girls the entire ride back (he left Drake alone, which proves that he isn't _quite_ as stupid as I had thought). And really, I think he could have been a little nicer to us. We'd all had an absolutely hellish time of it. Nancy and Yomiko had to fight half of Mr. Bone's staff, then had to jump off of a falling-apart scaffold, and then had to jump off of a tipping-over rocket! And then, to top it off, Drake told me that they landed right in a very large layer cake (a real one, I think, and not Mr. Bone's car) when they dropped through the rocket-induced hole in the roof of the Dome!_

_I wonder why Yomiko didn't tell me that part._

_Or why Nancy stopped being asleep long enough to glare at Drake when he did._

_And as for me, first I got knocked out by a gun-or-ladle-wielding Nancy, then I had to look at fifteen muffins full of head-sweat, then I had another mouse almost run up my skirt, and then I almost had a lot of scaffolding fall down on top of me!_

_Oh, the mouse?_

_Well, just as I was starting to consider sneaking out of my hidey-hole under the scaffolding long enough to kick the muffins aside so I wouldn't have to see them anymore, I heard a chillingly familiar little squeak._

_I looked down, and lo and behold, there was my little friend the mouse from the dungeon-pantry. _

_And I honestly don't think it got the hint about only Mr. Joker being allowed there, because it made for the frilly, lacy, poufy land of Under Wendy's Skirt once again._

_Since Drake wasn't there to calmly explain things to the mouse this time, I had to make do with my own powers of persuasion._

_And the mouse seemed fairly persuaded to go somewhere else once I started hopping about and screaming. Although, it could have been less because of me and more because, after the fourth time I crashed into one of the little wooden beams supporting the structure, it began to creak and sway ominously, and then started to fall apart._

_Oh, dear. Something has just begun to make sense._

_Em…I think I'll refrain from telling Yomiko and Nancy that I might have played some small part in knocking over the scaffolding._

_So, after the mouse and I scampered off to safety and then I kicked it across the room, I started back towards the Dome of Eternal pastry, but got distracted when I saw the rocket starting to tip over, directly towards said Dome._

_It was awfully interesting to watch, after all. Disaster that wasn't – completely – caused by me!_

_When I got to the Dome to see what on earth was happening in there, and if anyone had been gruesomely killed by a rocket landing on them (and I wasn't entirely hoping that Agent Rock might have been!), Drake was helping Yomiko out of a layer cake, Nancy was trying to scrub icing spots off of her clothes, and Agent Rock was looking for some antacids and a glass of water to counteract all the rich desserts he'd eaten._

_Oh, and a henchman was stumbling out of the rocket with a freshly-made pastry grasped in his hands._

_A freshly-made, ominously glowing pastry._

_At Mr. Bone's dismayed exclamation from where he was handcuffed to one of the massive industrial-looking refrigerators, Drake dropped Yomiko back into the cake and turned to watch the drama unfold._

_Bone explained to us in a frightened, wavery voice that now the pastry would destroy the planet after all, and really, he'd been sending it to the moon to avoid that, and he really wished that rampaging heroes like us would learn to mind our own business._

_Drake pointed out snippily that trying to destroy either Earth or the moon seemed a little stupid to him, and it certainly wasn't our fault that these rampaging villains were completely unable to get a life._

_Agent Rock complained that his tummy hurt._

_I reminded him that these things tended to happen when one made a pig of oneself on desserts that were not theirs, that they had not been invited to sample._

_Yomiko interrupted politely and asked someone to help her out of the cake._

_Drake and I went to help her while Nancy asked Mr. Bone if he had any idea how to disarm his fiendish creation._

_Honestly, I wish you could see the withering 'you-are-so-stupid' glare he gave her as he said, "It's a pastry, lady; not a bomb."_

_And I wish you could see the blistering, 'you-are-SO-dead' glare that she gave him._

_At this point, the pastry began to glow brighter within the hands of the unfortunate henchman who was carrying it, and to make an odd sort of growly noise._

_And then Mr. Bone gave a howl of rage and pain, and with a strength born of desperation (or something), he wrenched at his handcuffs (unfortunately only succeeding in taking the door off of the refrigerator and dragging it along with him), bolted at the terrified boy bearing the pastry (still with the refrigerator door bouncing merrily along after him), snatched up the glowing dessert, and gobbled it down in about two bites. _

_And thus, it was a happy ending for everybody!_

_Aside from Mr. Bone, who promptly blew up._

_And the boy holding the dessert, who was first crushed to death by a refrigerator door, and then his remains blown up._

_And Agent Rock, who still had a tummy ache and couldn't find any medicine._

_And Yomiko, who still couldn't get out of the cake._

_And Drake, who rather resented being pulled in after her._

_And Mr. Joker, who was a little miffed that no one was responding to his repeated attempts to get our attention through Yomiko and Nancy's transmitters._

_And me, who was still stuck in that silly maid outfit, with a right pervert of a mouse following me around._

_Well, at least Nancy was happy, if one doesn't count the fact that she had to watch the rest of us making fools of ourselves. And the little pieces of Mr. Bone she had to pick off of her shoulder._

_Yes, that was a little icky, to be honest, but better him than the universe, I suppose. Although, I'm still not sure how a pastry that was supposed to suck the universe into a black hole caused the man who ate it to explode. _

_Have concluded that the minion he ordered to make it simply used too much baking powder._

_You really have to watch that when you're baking. That's what my grandmum always says._

_Once Nancy and Agent Rock and I had managed to haul Yomiko and Drake out of that layer cake, we made our way hastily out of Mr. Bone's evil villain hideout. _

_As it turns out, he hid it in an old costume shop. _

_Honestly, the place looked deceptively small from outside. _

_Well, at any rate, that was Our Fantastic Adventure. Oh, hold on; we went through this already. Our Vaguely Stupid Happenings. _

_And now we are well and truly through with budding chefs and their attempts to destroy the universe by pastry, and tomorrow we shall be heading blessedly back home._

_I don't think I've ever had such a longing to do paperwork, fetch tea, and reorganize Mr. Joker's bookshelves again._

_Well, that isn't entirely true; I generally enjoy fetching tea._

_Am beginning to wonder if there is something wrong with me._

_Aside from an incredible level of exhaustion, that is._

_And so, diary dear, I shall leave you here and attempt to go back to sleep, despite Agent Rock and the cement-mixer-like noises drifting from him._

_Your faithful servant,_

_Wendy._

_

* * *

_

_April 7, 2001 – Saturday_

_Dear Diary,_

_It is now five in the morning, and I have just put a clothespin over Agent Rock's nose in the hopes that it will make him stop snoring. _

_I do hope desperately that it works._

_If it does not, I may hurt him._

_And I suppose it is usually frowned upon when one murders one's temporary roommates._

_Do you know what else is—_

_

* * *

_

_Dear Diary,_

_It is now six in the morning, and I have just woken up at the desk in our hotel room, with the faint imprint of my previous entry across my cheek. _

_Am planning to go scrub the ink off._

_Am hoping it comes off._

_

* * *

_

_Dear Diary,_

_It didn't come off. _

_Groan. I think Drake's bad luck is catching._

_Will make a mental image to Frown At him tomorrow._

_Your faithful servant,_

_Wendy._

_

* * *

_

_April 8, 2001 – Sunday_

_Dear Diary,_

_Home! Home at last! I don't think I've ever been so glad to see my humble little apartment, and my ugly brownish carpets, and my bookshelf, and my forty-three books, and my stereo, and all my CDs, and my rather awful but exceedingly comfy big blue plushy hand-me-down sofa and chairs, and my own soft, comfy bed in my own bedroom free of loudly snoring men to accidentally cuddle while having naughty dreams about...someone. _

_What was I talking about again?_

_Oh, yes; home, and how glad I am to be there. _

_I am currently lying upside-down on the sofa and scribbling away, which may explain why said scribbling is so frightfully messy. _

_I didn't write back yesterday, because no opportunity afforded itself. I didn't think it safe to test my luck by taking my diary out in front of Drake, after Frowning At him._

_Or after giving him a big hug because I felt bad for being so mean._

_He didn't really get angry, though, he just grumbled a lot and said it wasn't his lucky day._

_I wonder if he has that phrase copyrighted. _

_If he doesn't, he might as well._

_Nothing very exciting happened on the ride home. Although, it was certainly a happy moment when Benny announced that we were stopping to drop off Agent Rock._

_Unfortunately, our Loser Helicopter Pilot actually insisted upon actually landing, instead of just throwing Agent Rock out the side as Drake and Nancy – oh, fine; and I – suggested. _

_But at least our violent tendencies made Benny so scared of us (or at least of Drake and Nancy) that he didn't sing any Elvis on the way back._

_So, the trip back wasn't quite as bad as it could have been._

_Although, I did spend the entire thing hearing Mr. Joker's voice in the back of my head telling me that I had half an hour to clean out my desk and be out of the building for good before he set Drake on me with a pillow._

_After all, I did make a mess of a job I hadn't been trained for and had been given no choice of refusing. _

_Grumble._

_Oh, dear; I've been spending far too much time around Drake._

_I can fairly hear his dulcet tones everywhere I go, telling me to put away the damn diary before he throws it out the window. _

_I might ask him for a recording when I see him next – something to help me go to sleep at night. I wonder if he would find that creepy._

_At any rate, we got back to London much sooner than I and my slight terror of Mr. Joker would have liked, and went back to the Library to tie up loose ends. Or something like that. I wasn't entirely clear on what we were supposed to be doing, and just sort of sat there quietly and drank my Very Bad Tea while Drake, Yomiko, and Nancy explained everything._

_A little boring, to be honest._

_Although, I promptly began to miss the boring when Mr. Joker told everyone else to go, and asked to speak to me for a minute. _

_He offered me more tea, and I was going to vehemently decline, because the stuff honestly tasted like paint thinner, but then he said that he didn't think he'd done too badly making it._

_Now, I don't know if there is an established rule against this, but I certainly wasn't going to risk offending my boss by telling him that his tea is frankly undrinkable, particularly when there was a high probability that he had kept me there to fire me._

_So, I smilingly gulped down half the cup before "accidentally" spilling the rest down the front of my dress._

_Of course it wasn't actually an accident! Really, it wasn't!_

_Alright, so it was. _

_Still, it was a good accident, since it meant I didn't have to drink any more of that tea._

_So, after starting to tell me what I was still doing there and getting distracted by this or that about five times until I was ready to scream, Mr. Joker finally told me that he was certain I had tried my best as a field agent, and I wasn't _quite_ the worst one they'd ever seen (which frightens me to no end), but all in all, he felt it best that I return to my real job. Because frankly, my strengths did not lie in the area of going out into the world and 'kicking a little ass', as it were, and he was afraid that someone would actually be badly hurt next time. _

_He also muttered something under his breath about how he owed Mr. Gentleman a lot of money, because he'd been right, the smug old bastard._

_And I'm sure that, following this demotion back to the job I never wanted to stop doing in the first place, Mr. Joker was expecting me to shuffle sadly out of the room and go home to lick my wounds. _

_Because he certainly seemed surprised when I tackled him to the ground and hugged him, before begging him to let me fetch him a cup of tea – real tea._

_I don't think he was terribly pleased about being tackled to the ground – that hadn't actually been part of the plan, and really, I should have recalled that I _am_ a former rugby star, and have taken down much larger and stronger men than him – but he certainly smiled widely enough at the bit about a cup of tea, and said he supposed he would let me._

_When I brought it back, I asked if I could go put his bookshelves back in order for him, but he said that would have to wait until Monday, because he for one was going straight home, and he didn't want to leave me to lock up. _

_And so, I am now looking very forward to tomorrow, when I shall be joyously reorganizing all the bookshelves Mr. Joker has un-organized within the past three weeks!_

_My God, the man is hopeless._

_I'm going to go reorganize my own little bookshelf, this time according to the second letter in the author's last name!_

_Just to get ready for tomorrow, you know._

_Your faithful servant,_

_Wendy._

* * *

End Notes: Okay; we're in the homestretch! Only one (or maybe two…or three…or twelve) more chapters after this!

No, I swear right now that I'll confine myself to two more. But it should be easily wrapped up in one.

And hey, this was even a shorter chapter! Go me:o)

Anyway, that aside, we've had a frightfully silly end to a frightfully silly conflict, but nevertheless I hope you enjoy it, comments are always welcome.

Thank-you, and good evening. :o)


	12. A Return to the Familiar

Chapter 12

* * *

_April 9, 2001 – Monday_

_Dear Diary,_

_Life is wonderful! _

_Today began delightfully, waking up in my own bed, in my own apartment, and this time without any random men rampaging through it. I got up, had some coffee, got dressed, and had a very nice bus ride to work, even if I was dripping wet when I got there. Because it was raining, you know, but such a pretty rain! _

_I spent two hours of the morning reorganizing Mr. Joker's office (because frankly, doing anything else was completely impossible, with him showing up at my desk every two minutes so I could find something for him), and then I spent another half-hour re-reorganizing it, because I did it wrong the first time._

_It's been a while, so it took me some time to remember the right way._

_After that, I ran into Danielle in the halls, and she implored me in a whisper to go reorganize the filing system, since Joker had been putting things in the wrong places for the last three weeks, and no one could find anything._

_It's so nice to know that you're needed!_

_Even though it would have been rather nice to get to some of the massive pile of _real_ work that Mr. Joker has apparently been leaving on my desk for the past three weeks._

_Groan. So much for time to sleep this week. It'll all go into over-time, just to catch up with all of this work._

_For heaven sakes, you'd think the man would have the common sense to—no, I said I was going to appreciate my life, instead of complaining now that it's finally back to its old rhythms of normalcy._

_You know, diary dear, one thing still makes me wonder: was Mr. Joker serious when he said that he would like me to model my silly new frilly pink maid dress? Because I was very tempted to bring it to work with me, but I don't know if he meant it, or if he just said it to distract me from breaking something in Mr. Bone's hideout._

_And, of course, I couldn't outright _ask_ him!_

_Being so direct; that just isn't done! Unthinkable, to just walk in and calmly ask him, "Mr. Joker, did you mean it when you said you wanted to see me prance around like a walking maid fetish?" And then he would answer yes, and I would be happy but a little nervous, or he would answer no, and I would be sad but a little relieved. But either way, I wouldn't be wondering anymore!_

___Well, the problem with _that_, diary dear, is that wondering and agonizing is half the fun!_

___Um.__ Not a very good game, now that I think about it. And after all, Mr. Joker is very reasonable about these things. He's said before that if I ever have a question, I should ask about it right away, instead of doing things wrong because I don't want to bother him with silly inquiries._

___Still, I'm sure Sylvie and Julie's hair would both turn white, if they found out that I was even _thinking_ about violating The Code._

___And so, I won't. I'll just return to my account of my Very Wonderful Day._

___After I reorganized the filing system again (which took a good, long while, as Mr. Joker really is hopeless when it comes to putting things back where they belong), he gave me one of my "little extra projects", which I normally cringe at a little, as they usually involve using "dirty tricks", which, in addition to involving a lot of meticulous work to cover my dirty little tracks, always gives me the uncomfortable feeling of being in an entirely different line of work that involves miniskirts and late nights on the streets in bad parts of town._

___But this time it wasn't so horrid, and I didn't have to use any dirty tricks and feel as though I ought to be wearing fishnets. I only had to transfer a lot of Mr. Joker's tiny, cramped, barely readable notes from dozens of Post-Its to computer, and then organize them into some vaguely coherent body of text._

___Really, I'm beginning to worry about Mr. Gentleman's health, what with all these mentions of "transferring his personality to another so that we never need be without him." I thought he was feeling better than he had been earlier this year, after he accidentally rolled his wheelchair down a flight of stairs. _

___Of course, there was the small matter of his going temporarily mad and agreeing to let Joker make me a field agent, but I had put _that_ small matter up to his twisted sense of humour._

___Well, he's the only person _I_ know (besides Drake) who finds Saturday Night Live uproariously funny. Of course, it _is_ mildly amusing from time to time, but a steady diet would be nothing short of annoying. Silly American trash. That's what Mr. Joker calls it, you know. But he doesn't tell Mr. Gentleman that. He doesn't like to disagree with him on these things. Or anything else._

___If only he could have recalled that a few weeks ago and sensibly agreed that me as a field agent was simply begging for disaster!_

___Oh, well. It's all over, and I'm home now. And I hope that nothing out of the ordinary happens again for a long, long time. If it doesn't, maybe I'll actually get my desk back in order some time this month, instead of having to peek miserably out at people from behind two gigantic stacks of work!_

___Unless "something out of the ordinary" involves Mr. Joker having a spare key to my flat and sneaking in someday to do something fun and impetuous that involves our clothes being flung carelessly about._

___Oh, dear; the ink is running again. I had managed to avoid that for a while. _

___And in addition, the telephone is ringing._

___Perhaps I ought to go answer it._

___Right; off I go, then._

___

* * *

_

___Oh, my. _

___Giggle-giggle, blush-blush._

___That was Mr. Joker on the phone just now. And, as it happens, a Mr. Joker who was very much in earnest when he said he wanted to see the maid outfit. _

___But not, he emphasized, at work. That would, it seems, be silly and unprofessional. And, it follows, someone else might see, and like it, and he really didn't want to have to kill half his own staff. Elias, he said, had been treading a fine line lately._

___Honestly, I do NOT want to know. Is there a normal man around that place?_

___Still, I am losing focus on the important part: Mr. Joker is going to stop by later, especially to see my new frilly pink maid outfit! I rather wish he hadn't added the bit about his appointment elsewhere being cancelled, and his thus having nothing better to do this evening, but that isn't terribly important._

___It seems that Mr. Bone was good for something, after all, God rest his soul._

___Oh, I'm so excited! I'm going to change, right now!_

___Of course, I'm not particularly thrilled about being back in that idiotic outfit, but I am very much looking forward to the possibility of some Fun developing._

___Luckily, I thought to wash the silly thing last night in between bouts of being Very Tired._

___I wonder if I ought to wear my frivolous, impractical undies with the silly dress._

___Hmm. Could've done without the nervousness, honestly._

___ Alright; I'm going to change, right_ now.___  
_

___Your faithful (and very nervous and excited) servant,_

___Wendy._

___

* * *

_

___April 10, 2001 – Tuesday_

___Dear Diary,_

___I'm going to wake up any second now. Life is just too wonderful right now to be real, and the only possible explanation is that it is _not_ real, and I am having a lovely dream, the sort that makes the ink run a lot._

___It is currently so late that I have dated this entry as tomorrow, and I'm writing this in bed, by the light of my side-table lamp. Joker, who has requested that I leave off the "Mr." in private henceforth as "it _is_ a little creepy, you know", is already asleep, and looking so nice and peaceful that it's keeping me from acting on the urge to wake him up and try to coax him to…erm, "play" again._

___Giggle-giggle…_

___I suppose I ought to explain what has happened to end this evening with my boss in my bed. It isn't a terribly intuitive leap to assume it, but…well, I want to write it down, to look back on it on bad days!_

___He came by at about eight-thirty, and he seemed a little surprised that I had the silly dress on already, although I don't think he minded._

___At least, judging from the number of times he dropped his keys and waited for me to pick them up for him, while he went around behind me to give me space._

___Seemed a little funny, and even through my slightly muddled thoughts at that point, I could tell that it was put on; usually, randomly dropping things is _my _department._

___I thought it was an honest mistake the third time, though (as he had finally gotten the hang of being convincing), so when I straightened up, I turned right around and crashed into him. Hard enough, unfortunately or fortunately, to send us both to the floor, since he was a little off-balance because he hadn't finished straightening up, and he grabbed onto me for support, when I was a little off-balance, too._

___I don't know what my neighbours must have thought. I suppose they're used to the series of mysterious thumps drifting from "that silly Wendy girl's" flat._

___So, we stayed there for a minute. I think he maybe wanted to get up, but I was too busy snuggling to let him, and before long, he just let me snuggle, and sort of patted my back._

___And then he tried to be subtle about his other hand moving toward the bottom of my skirt, which was absolutely adorable! I suppose he doesn't know that it's usually very obvious to a girl when a man has his hand up her dress._

___Unless the man is doing it wrong._

___Which he very definitely wasn't._

___I must have been looking at him oddly, because he gave me this very cute smile that I think was supposed to be seductive, and said he'd thought that, as long as we were down here, we might as well take advantage of it._

___And now, dear diary, here we are._

___Of course, some things happened in between then and now (quite my favourite part of the evening, to be honest), but this is not THAT sort of diary, and thus I shall refrain from going into full, delicious detail._

___At some point, we did move from the floor of my living room, down the hall, to my bedroom, though; that seems innocuous enough a little detail. And I suppose I could describe the kissing – go on for pages about soft lips and warm, mingling breath and such – but I did _not_ go through all those years of schooling to learn how to write romance novels! _

___Oh, he also thought it necessary to kindly explain to me…ahem…_after_, that he didn't really have a "maid thing" – that asking me to wear the outfit was really all a ruse, because he thought it was becoming far more distracting to deal with trying to ignore our interest than to act on it._

_Honestly____, I _had___ figured out all by myself that it was a ruse, and not a symptom of his maid fetish, which, as he explained, doesn't actually exist. If I hadn't, I'd have likely slapped him several times by now upon being told to go fetch the feather duster and get back to work. Instead of cuddling a lot._

___There's a bit of a difference between slapping and cuddling, after all. _

___Again, unless a person is cuddling entirely the wrong way._

___And really, I meant to ask him exactly where he got the impression that I had ever tried to ignore my interest. Of course, I did not exactly shout to the skies that I had broken every single rule in the book and fallen for my boss instead of that nice Steve boy on the janitorial staff as any sensible girl would've done, but I didn't try to _deny___ it, and I recall making it decently obvious to anyone paying attention. _

___Of course, this was partly because I thought he _wasn't_ paying attention. _

___Until he began letting little hints slip, too. I had honestly thought this was intentional, to see if I was. Paying attention, that is. _

___Was incredibly surprised to learn that it was not._

___Intentional, that is._

___I have the oddest feeling that I ought to be uncomfortable with this – I know, academically, that becoming involved with one's boss is the kiss of death to all professionalism. But, honestly, I don't see why, if you don't behave like a complete fool. After all, I won't be silly enough to behave any differently at work. He simply wouldn't tolerate it._

___After all, he said that one of the main reasons he finally did something was because it was becoming far too distracting to try to ignore it. _

___If I were just a little sillier, it might offend me that maintaining professionalism was his strongest motive, instead of my natural beauty and charm and overall irresistibility. _

___As it is, this all makes perfect sense to me. _

___Not only this, but I have just noticed him cuddling his pillow, and am now too busy melting into an adoring puddle to be offended by anything in the world._

___And now, as I was apparently rather too loud a puddle, I have just been told sleepily to turn off the light and get some sleep._

___As I do not want to risk a third man making throwing-out-a-window attempts on my diary, am going to comply._

___Your faithful servant,_

___Wendy_

* * *

___April 11, 2001 – Wednesday_

___Dear Diary,_

___Well, the first day has been got through, and no one seems to have noticed anything different._

___Am, of course, referring to the newly-begun romantic entanglement with my boss, which I have apparently begun because I am insane._

___Yes, that was Julie's professional opinion when she telephoned earlier this evening, and apparently I was in such a good mood that "SOMETHING had to be different!" _

___Honestly, I like to think that I sound in a decently good mood most of the time, but perhaps I am merely fooling myself._

___At any rate, I tried fervently to deny it, but she is as good as I am at finding out things she shouldn't know, and before long, and without any idea how, I had admitted to her that I did, indeed, have Joker over for a "sleepover" last night. _

___Complete with a pillow-fight, and everything._

___Ahem. _

___So, it follows from this that I am insane, because any sane female would have dealt with their handsome, kind, and wonderful boss's advances by scurrying around the room, shrieking loudly about sexual harassment. _

___I wonder if she has any idea that I was the one who as good as jumped _him_, rather than the other way around._

___I wonder if I should have told her._

___Would've shut her up in a hurry, I think._

___Definitely should have told her; there isn't much that can shut Julie up, and the novelty alone would have made it enjoyable_

___At any rate, aside from the fact that I am insane, and that Julie is going to have Sylvie telephone to knock some sense into me (over the phone – impressive, no?), today was a relatively good one. _

___As I've said, no one around the Library has guessed that anything has changed, although they could just be keeping quiet for fear that, if angered, I will continue to let Joker file things back himself, just to show them._

___That_ would_ be quite a punishment, for everyone around there. Myself included, when I finally had to set aside my childish little fit and set the filing stations back to rights myself._

___Am glad to report that, due to Joker's having been able to keep his office relatively tidy since yesterday, I was able to get started on the massive pile of work waiting for me on my desk with a wickedly grotesque grin. _

___Metaphorically speaking, of course._

___Although, by seven this evening, I was sleepy enough that inanimate objects did seem to be randomly making faces at me._

___Which eventually led to my running at top speed down the hallway to Joker's office to collect some things I had left there._

___Oh, alright, so it was a ruse! I really wanted to be around him, so that he could protect me if the inanimate objects did begin randomly attacking._

___Save me, Mr. Joker! Save me from the wrath of the printer! Or I'll save you from the wrath of the printer. Or something._

___Still, he was busy, so I stayed long enough to collect my things, and my scattered wits, and then left him in peace._

___Then I remembered that just because I wasn't going to start behaving any differently around him now that we are periodically doing Fun Things together, didn't mean I was going to act any differently in the other direction, and completely neglect his well-being in favour of professionalism. _

___Or something._

___Either way, I marched right back into his office and threatened to throw something at him if he didn't go home and get some proper sleep._

___Harrumph. He didn't have to laugh _quite_ so heartily at that._

___Still, at least he did leave, and even offered me a ride home, looking so altogether hopeful that I felt nearly bad about reminding him that I had brought my own car today. Professionalism, you know. Keep this relationship as hidden as we can keep it. _

___So, we compromised by going somewhere for dinner._

___During which we talked a bit about last night, or at least alluded to it amid a lot of blushing in my case and a slightly embarrassed, but not ill-pleased smile in his, and a lot about what I'd learned in the process of being a field agent for those disastrous three weeks I desperately wish there was some way to strike from my memory._

___I wonder why Joker got such a funny expression when I told him that, though…_

___All in all, the only things I was able to tell him I'd learned for certain is that there are a lot of madmen out there (which I had already known – you don't spend each and every day around some of the people I work with without learning THAT), that I have no natural ability for show-shoeing (which could not possibly matter less to me), and that you apparently don't have to understand a word your date is saying to have a pleasant evening (the nice French man, you know – and as for me, the only thing I know how to say in French is 'yes', which makes me a very agreeable, but not a terribly riveting date)._

___And I think I can figure out why _this_ gave Joker a slightly strange expression. A different sort of strange. A strange that seemed to imply a hatred of the French, curiously enough._

___Giggle-giggle-blush-blush._

___And so, dear diary, I am now back at home, and with half of my mind am singing and dancing crazily about in sheer jubilation, while the other half of my mind smarts under the sting of Julie's not-so-nice-to-say-to-your-friend words, not to mention the fact that, as Joker ended up driving me home after all, I am going to be taking the bus tomorrow, and likely arriving to find a parking violation ticket pinned to my windshield for leaving the vehicle there overnight. _

___Well, having sorted all of this out, I think I shall make my merry way to bed, as it is rather late, as Julie found it necessary to keep me on the phone for rather a long time to properly explain to me all of the reasons that I am stupid for not doing exactly as she would in this situation. _

___Grr__. Stupid friends._

___Your faithful servant,_

___Wendy_

___

* * *

_  
End Notes: Shippiness at last! I only hope it wasn't too much. Oh, right; and this is the second-last chapter. But I'm seriously considering a sequel surrounding the events of ROD the TV. Would anyone out there smack me _really_ hard if I decided to do that:op


	13. Monotony, Blessed Monotony

Chapter 13_  
_

_

* * *

_

_April 22, 2001 – Monday_

_Dear Diary,_

_It has been nearly two weeks since my last entry – two weeks that have nearly been the death of me._

_Or at least, the extreme exhaustion and vague annoyance of me._

_I have spent nearly all of my free time putting in extra hours, to get all of my back-log of work finished and off my desk. _

_As for the rest, that was not included in that "nearly", it has been spent in a much more pleasant way._

_Tee-hee. _

_Yes, dear diary, the only thing that has kept me relatively sane in the last two weeks was the hope of those lovely non-work hours, those five wonderful evenings spent with that certain special someone, doing fun couple things._

_Of course, I could only manage to coax 'that special someone' to do those 'fun couple things' a few times (twelve) within the past fortnight, but that's quite alright with me. _

_A girl mustn't expect too much, after all; just because she has an insatiable appetite for things that nice girls aren't supposed to think about, she can't expect her special someone to have the same constant urges._

_And anyway, doing things that nice girls can actually tell their mothers about is awfully nice, too: little smiles when we pass in the hallways, brushing his hand a little longer than I _really_ have to when I hand him things, slipping those little – ahem – notes into his desk before he gets to work in the morning..._

_Although, I suppose I'd hardly tell my mother about _those. _She'd either be horrified, or very, very impressed._

_I don't know which would be worse._

_At any rate, diary dear, I think I'll be off to daydream for a bit now. And thus, I'll probably not be writing back any time soon._

_Just as well; the ink would only start to run anyway._

_Your faithful servant,_

_Wendy._

_

* * *

_

_April 23, 2001 – Tuesday_

_Dear Diary,_

_I had thought that all of my especially strange days had ended when Mr. Joker got over his absurd idea of my being sent out with _real_ field agents._

_I was dismayed to find out today that this is decidedly not so._

_While I was driving Mr. Joker home this evening (as last night was one of those times that I was able to coax him over for fun couple activities), I chanced to mention something about the recent impromptu mission involving Mr. Bone, and some comment or another that Miss Makuhari had made regarding something._

_Mr. Joker looked at me very oddly at this, and told me very gently and soothingly that I was to 'stop imagining things'. _

_I asked what on earth he was talking about, and he told me, again very gently and soothingly, that Miss Makuhari could not have possibly made the witty comment that I attributed to her, because she had not been involved in the mission. The reason for this, it appears, is that one of her was in a hospital and in no condition to do anything of the sort, and the other was dead, and thus in even less condition for a mission. _

_What!_

_This is a fairly close paraphrasing of what I said at the time, too. _

_In addition to words to this effect, I went on to add that Miss Makuhari was _not_ dead, because she had miraculously survived the whole "being blasted into space" incident by falling through a haystack, with only minor psychological damage to both her and a goodly portion of the cattle going about their little bovine business in that field at the time._

_In response to this, Mr. Joker invited me in when we arrived at his flat, and did it in a tone that really sounded more like an order than a polite request._

_  
Still, I trotted happily up to his flat after him. Only to be rather disappointed when, instead of the Fun Couples Activities I had greedily begun to hope for on the way up, he made some coffee, and then sat me down to explain very slowly and carefully that nothing of the sort had happened – Miss Makuhari had_ not_ survived the rocket, and as such, had _not_ been involved in any mission, as she _was_ dead._

_At this point, the idea meandered into my thoroughly bewildered little head to find out if perhaps the mission involving Mr. Bone, not to mention his weeks of making his own tea and filing his own papers, had been so utterly traumatizing to poor Mr. Joker that he had forcibly blocked them from his memory, so I asked hesitantly if the mission itself had actually _happened. _Which, of course, led to Mr. Joker looking even more concerned about his poor overtired little secretary's mental state as he explained that of course the mission had actually happened, and did I perhaps want to lie down a while before going home?_

_He made an effort at a genuine smile when I said that I would if he would come with me, but then proceeded to simply carry me off to his bedroom, remove half my clothes, drop me on his bed, and then _leave me there on my own!

_Honestly! Men these days!_

_Still, he _does_ have a very comfortable bed, which is quite a pleasant place to pass one's time, even when he isn't there too. I think it was about three minutes before I fell asleep._

_So, now it is far closer to tomorrow than to today, and I am scribbling this strange account of things in a kitchen that is not mine, as I woke up not long ago with an arm draped over my waist. _

_Yes, it was Mr. Joker's; zombies have not begun randomly tromping through his flat and leaving their limbs in strange places. And honestly, it was no small feat to crawl out of bed, as every time I moved, Mr. Joker's dream-state apparently became more and more convinced that his teddy bear had come to life and attempted to make a daring escape, and that he had to stop it at all costs. _

_Nevertheless, here I am now, and a befuddled little me I am. _

_Oh, well; the best thing to do in a case like this is get another opinion from someone who would be more likely to know than one's work-addled boss who has apparently begun to lose his mind._

_I wonder when might be a good time to telephone Yomiko._

_Your faithful servant,_

_Wendy._

_

* * *

_

_April 24, 2001 – Wednesday_

_Dear Diary, _

_Oh, my head hurts. And that isn't only because Elias, the great big idiot, found it necessary to bring in his new favourite CD. And what a find the bloody thing turned out to be: the greatest punk rock hits of today and yesterday, accompanied by the bagpipes. _

_No, the real reason my head hurts is coincidentally the same reason that my conscience is giving me uncomfortable pangs, too._

_I managed to get in touch with Yomiko today, as I was rather anxious to rally some comforting reassurances from her that yes, Miss Makuhari was perfectly alright and attempting to coax her into a pillow fight at that very moment, and that no, I was not completely insane, although I _was_ being something of a nuisance at the moment._

_Sigh. Why don't things ever work out the way you expect, when what you expect is also what you want?_

_That is to say, there was a brief, stunned silence on the other end before a noise suspiciously like someone weeping stormily and then blowing their nose into a best-seller came through the line._

_I really did try to apologize, but Yomiko didn't seem particularly interested in hearing it. She just kept bravely assuring me that she was alright, and that she wasn't angry, just very sad obviously, and a little worried. She suggested that I should maybe try to get some help; after all,_ she_ missed Nancy very badly too, but she wasn't about to go inventing these stories._

_At this point, it began to occur to my dazed little brain that insisting that they _weren't_ stories probably wouldn't help Yomiko, who had, apparently, gone as crazy as Mr. Joker._

_Instead of stubbornly harping on why I was right and further traumatizing the poor girl, I bid her as cheerful a goodbye as possible, and set about trying to separate the reality of the situation from where it had gotten horribly tangled in the private fantasies I've apparently harboured regarding Miss Makuhari._

_News to me, quite honestly, but the way I see it, the very least I can do for poor Yomiko right now is agree with her on this minor point. _

_Nevertheless, I fully intend to telephone Drake at my very next opportunity._

_That is, my very next opportunity that might not involve getting him out of bed at three in the morning and earning me a very angry and R-rated response. _

_Oh, yes; and work happened quite as usual. I was not stupid enough to go about asking my co-workers for their version of the "What happened to the non-hospitalized Miss Makuhari?" story, and thus I have not landed myself in a nice, cozy padded cell with only Mr. Joker's visits to cheer me up. _

_Although, those certainly would. I can only imagine that a padded room would make for some interesting possibilities along the "fun couples activities" front. Particularly if they let us borrow some of those restraints that can usually be found about such places. _

_Oh, dear. And there goes the ink again._

_Your faithful servant (who is currently attempting to dry out her diary and figure out if she has always been this way),_

_Wendy._

_

* * *

_

_April 25, 2001 – Thursday_

_Dear Diary,_

_Nothing particularly exciting to talk about today. _

_Work was relatively routine. You know, push through as much work as possible and hope you haven't done it all completely wrong due to fatigue and rushing. Also, one of the girls brought cake! I didn't have any, but I took advantage of the mad rush and had a little nap. Phyllis woke me up and gently informed me, looking like she wanted very badly to laugh but didn't dare, that I had been talking in my sleep. _

_I wonder if hypnosis would cure something like this. I don't want Joker to overhear me…er, having a rather vocal dream about him._

_Unless, of course, something like that would pique his interest…_

_The ride there was somewhat harrowing as I continuously nodded off at the wheel and awoke to the blaring of other peoples' car horns when I began edging over, apparently intent upon sharing their lane with them. _

_The ride home was distinctly better, as I managed to stay conscious the entire time. _

_And if you're wondering, diary dear, I didn't get the chance to so much as say hello to Joker today. _

_I was able to corner him in a supply closet at one point, but my cheerful greeting was abruptly cut off when I was shoved back into a shelf and…em…quieted in a very fun way that involved more romance novel description that I did not go through years of schooling to learn how to write._

_This, by the way, was by far the highlight of my day._

_Oh, yes; and in addition to nearly dying in a car wreck on the way to work, nearly dying in a cake-related stampede accident _at_ work, and being very thoroughly cheered up by Joker in a supply closet, I have also realized, courtesy of Mr. Drake, that I am completely and irreversibly insane._

_Yes. I have telephoned him._

_Yes. I spent ten minutes talking to his daughter, who I think must have gotten her friendliness from her mother._

_Yes. I asked him about the mission._

_Yes. I sighed in relief at yet another bit of confirmation that the past month really has happened, and Joker hasn't just been humouring me by going along with my less-than-subtle attempts to become better acquainted between someone's bed sheets._

_Yes. I asked him about Miss Makuhari._

_Yes. I was dismayed when he reacted first with very guilty laughter when I reached the bit about the haystack that had saved her life, and then with anger at my horrible insensitivity at making up lies like that about a dead woman._

_Oh, dear. It seems as though Mr. Drake is not the sane one, after all. Sadly, that task shall fall to me._

_Don't laugh._

_He then went on to somewhat worriedly command that I never, ever mention this to Yomiko, as she is devastated enough as it is._

_I wanted very badly to ask if she had been acting as such during those two horrid weeks of training that I have blocked from my memory, but I also enjoy living, dear diary, and I was not anxious to put too much faith in Drake's not actually being able to reach through the phone and throttle me._

_So instead, I bid him a very nervous and squeaky farewell, and picked up my diary to vent. _

_Vent, vent, vent._

_Please excuse me if I am being a little snippy at the moment, diary. Finding out that one is insane will tend to put them a bit on edge._

_Well, this little loony is going to do something surprisingly sensible, and go calmly to sleep now, where she will no doubt proceed to stare up at the ceiling for hours._

_Perhaps I should have thought this through._

_Oh! _

_Gasp! _

_It has just occurred to little over-tired lunatic Wendy that her twenty-fourth birthday happens to be tomorrow!_

_I wonder if it will…ehem…occur to anyone else in a way that might involve another supply-closet rendezvous. _

_Unless today's was supposed to count for my birthday, along with the cake that I heartily ignored, and no one bothered to mention it to me._

_I rather hope not, as I neglected to not only have any cake, but to thank the girls for bringing it in. Also, I was equally neglectful in thanking Joker for the lovely time in the supply closet._

_Well, I'm sure I can find a way to make it up, that might also involve supply closets._

_Although, I'll only be doing _that _for Joker._

_Your faithful servant who will be having pleasant dreams tonight despite everything,_

_Wendy._

_

* * *

_

_May 14, 2001 – Monday_

_Dear New Diary,_

_Having finally given up on ever finding my poor, poor old lined paper confidante, I have been forced to resort to adopting a new one. It seems that Mr. Joker's gift – the one that was neither the gun nor the necklace that I have to force myself to take off even to shower – was Providential. Or just plain lucky. _

_Really, I don't know what could have happened to my old diary. I know I slipped it into my bag before work on my birthday, but when I went to look for it that evening to write about what a truly happy birthday it had been, it was nowhere to be found. _

_Oh, but a lovely birthday it was. Complete with another cake (this time strawberry shortcake because the girls thought I seemed like the sort, and honestly I'd be more outraged about their baseless assumptions if I didn't absolutely adore the stuff), a noon-hour…ehem…"visit" with Mr. Joker in his (carefully locked) office, a mid-morning "visit" with Mr. Joker in a supply closet, a mid-afternoon "visit" with Mr. Joker back in his office again…_

_I don't know what's gotten into him lately, but I'm not about to complain. Only blush and grin a whole lot. _

_And drool as well._

_You'll want to watch out for that, diary dear._

_Nevertheless, the disappearance of my old diary is still a little perplexing._

_I've searched my desk at work, my car, Mr. Joker's car, Mr. Joker's desk, Mr. Joker's flat, my flat…It's simply nowhere to be found._

_However, one mustn't dwell on the past. Mr. Joker has told me that a lot lately, while giving me this very sharp, very strange look. _

_I wonder if I'm going to find out in a few years that he has various and assorted wives in various and assorted countries about the world._

_Oh, well. Onto business._

_How do you do, my dear new diary? Glad to have you, I hope we shall get on well together, I'll try not to tickle you too badly whilst writing, and such. _

_It's been a hard two weeks. Without a nice little hardcover scribbler to vent in – because I didn't want to give up on it too soon, you know – I've had to resort to emailing my friends regularly, which has started both Sylvie and Julie on the Quest to Find Wendy a Boyfriend._

_I've tried to explain to them that my boss (who I simply _can't _refer to any other way, likely indicating a dangerous power imbalance in our personal relationship or some such load of garbage) would likely object, but they seem to be of the opinion that we won't be lasting long anyway, so I might as well have a back-up plan. _

_It is_ my_ opinion that my friends really ought to try running their own lives once in a while, and leave mine alone. _

_A back-up plan! For heaven's sake! I've already got a job that takes up almost every spare second of my time, a boss who periodically comes home from that job with me (or else takes me home with him), and two nagging friends who take up the rest of my time with descriptions of all the nice boys they know that would be just _perfect_ for me. _Where_ do they imagine that I would find time to invest in one of these nice boys as a 'back-up plan'? _

_How is it that I love my friends dearly up until the point that I begin talking to them regularly?_

_Am glad to report, however, that the greater frequency of interaction with Joker has not begun to have this effect yet. Even though he seems to have the same rather alarming fetish for telling others how they ought to be running their lives; somehow it's _cute_ when he does it._

_Almost as cute as the happy little smile he has right now (because yes, I am scribbling this little note whilst curled up on one end of his couch) that I'm using the diary he gave me. Strange…in this light, it almost seems to have a hint of evil glee in it, and I could swear that he just murmured, "Everything is going according to plan." Curious.  
_

_Clearly, I am suffering extreme exhaustion that has made me begin to hallucinate. The only thing for this, I fear, is a good long sleep, after several hours of Fun Couples Activities._

_So. Off I go, then._

_Your faithful servant,_

_Wendy._

* * *

_May 19, 2001 - Friday_

_Dear Diary,_

_Not much has happened today, aside from the fact that someone came into Mr. Joker's office without knocking this morning, and very nearly caught me in the middle of giving him a very friendly good-morning. Thus, I was forced to implement a very silly little trick that looks as though it belongs on a particularly bad situational comedy, and pretend that this was merely my friendly nature in action. _

_It was a little embarrassing to leap joyfully at both Alex and Marianne and give them each a massive bear hug whilst winding my legs around their waist and nuzzling happily away, but anything to preserve our little secret. Although, I did feel a little bad when Marianne lost her balance and we both ended up on the floor._

_Then I spent the next half hour or so dragging her to the lunch room and making ice packs and forcing analgesics and tea on her until Mr. Joker came and called me off._

_The rest of the week hasn't been much worth mentioning, although I did finally get my back-log of work cleared up yesterday, as I managed to finally get through to Mr. Joker that I wasn't going to ever get caught up if he kept giving me bigger-than-usual work loads each day. So, he gave me three days to get everything on my desk finished. _

_What a nice man._

_Drip-drip-drip._

_That, by the way, was sarcasm, and not me thinking happy thoughts about him._

_Nevertheless, I am completely caught up again, even though it took staying until around nine each night and coming in early each day to accomplish that small miracle._

_This, unfortunately, has led to no fun couples activities with Mr. Joker, but I've been coping. Been too bloody tired to contemplate anything more physically taxing than falling asleep on his shoulder. _

_But I did get home at a decent hour yesterday, and thus have come into work this morning rejuvenated and ready to do things to him once again. _

_Hence our very nearly embarrassing situation this morning. _

_Once Mr. Joker had dragged me forcibly out of the lunch room and apologized to Marianne for my helpful nature, explaining severely to me on the way back to his office that I was to stop molesting the staff or he'd be forced to rehire after killing them in a jealous rage, it transpired that he had arranged for me to have an annual medical examination this year._

_It's strange, though; in the five years I've worked for him, this is the first time I've been for one._

_The medical itself was strange, too, and involved me being put under. I begged a few extra minutes from the doctors, and ran to ask Mr. Joker if this was normal. He assured me that it was, and the kiss he gave me on the forehead was so altogether sweet that I fairly floated back to the medical room. _

_The rest of the day passed more or less without incident, although I was fairly groggy throughout it, so something may have happened without my noticing it. _

_On the way home, something a little odd happened. Mr. Joker mentioned that I had been making some absolutely absurd claims recently, about Miss Nancy Makuhari, of all people. She was a special agent with the Special Operations unit, called in for cases requiring that particular "woman who can walk through walls" touch, but she turned out to be working with the people cloned from the stolen I-jin samples a while back, who were our enemies despite the fact that they came from _our_ bloody stolen samples, and it's all very perplexing. _

_It's equally perplexing that I should have been claiming, as Mr. Joker told me I had been, that she was along for that horrid situation involving Mr. Bone and the Magically Delicious Pastry of Universal Implosion. And it was, apparently, the one killed in the rocket that I was telling strange tales about. How odd. At least if it had been the one currently in hospital, it would have made a little more sense. _

_Well, I suppose I can only agree with Mr. Joker that my outrageous and silly claims are the result of overwork. I'll ask him about taking my week's vacation fairly soon. _

_And so, dear diary, I end today upon the delightful certainty that, after over two months of strange adventure after strange adventure, my life has settled once more into the sweet, comforting monotony I have come to so appreciate._

_With the added bonus of being slightly older, wiser, and closer to my boss._

_Tee-hee-hee._

_Now, if only I could shake off this nagging sensation that I'm forgetting something terribly important…_

_Oh, well. Perhaps it'll come to me in the morning. For now, sleep is more important._

_After all, I want to be well-rested for a weekend filled to the brim with CD organization, grocery shopping, and late-night romantic comedies if I have the energy. And hopefully a surprise visit from a certain someone._

_Although, if he does come by, I'll have to make sure he understands that I intend to _watch_ the movies, not be distracted by his urge to play._

_On second thought, I can always rent the video._

_Your faithful servant,_

_Wendy _

* * *

End Notes: Well, folks, it took thirteen gruelling and rambling chapters, but at last The Unfortunate Adventures of Agent Klutz have come to an end. At least, until I can no longer resist the temptation to write a sequel. ;)

Anyway, thanks very much to all who have read and reviewed, and I hope you had fun reading it, for I certainly had fun writing it. Far too much fun, truth be told.


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